


Bleu

by larryent



Category: Larry Stylinson - Fandom, One Direction (Band)
Genre: Anal, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Angst with a Happy Ending, Asshole Harry, Bottom Louis, Canada, Dirty Talk, Eventual Romance, Eventual Smut, Feelings, Fluff and Angst, Fluff and Smut, Handcuffs, Inspired by Poetry, Jealous Harry, Kidnapped Louis, Kidnapping, Kinky, Lots of Crying, M/M, Medical Inaccuracies, Miscommunication, Misunderstandings, Oral Sex, Past Relationship(s), Police Officer Harry Styles, Police Officer Liam, Possessive Behavior, Possessive Harry, Possessive Harry Styles, Possessive Sex, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Rollercoaster of feelings, Sad, Slow Burn, Smut, Thankies for the prompt, Top Harry, Unstable Louis Tomlinson, Violence, based on a prompt
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-08-19
Updated: 2019-06-02
Packaged: 2019-06-29 18:06:52
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 13
Words: 24,706
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15734664
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/larryent/pseuds/larryent
Summary: "I want to be where your barefoot walks because maybe before you step, you'll look at the ground. I want that blessing." ― RumiORLouis is kidnapped and taken from his home in London, England to Jasper, Alberta all the way in Canada. The last person he expects to see is his ex-high school sweetheart with a badge and a loaded gun on his belt holster.(Butterflies, Blue Skies And Your Eyes™️)larryent August 2018





	1. 1. What hurts the soul?

**Author's Note:**

> Hellooo! This is a prompt from the lovely larryingsince2013 on wattpad. This is the first prompt that I'm posting (I have some saved and they will come very soon!!) and I've been working on it for a while and the very first chapter will be out on Friday. Expect long chapters by the way.  
> I am very, very excited about this fic and there will be major angst !! 
> 
>  
> 
> Warnings:  
> — kidnaping, physical assault, NO RAPE  
> — drug use (against ones will)  
> — slow burn!!  
> — angst, angst, and more angst  
> — smut, kinky smut at that (handcuffs, honey)  
> — more tags will be added !! 
> 
>  
> 
> Prompt:  
> Larry au where Louis and Harry fall in love when they're 18 and 16 but like 2 years later Louis breaks up with Harry because of any reason that you see fit, and Harry doesn't like that so he moves and they stop talking to each other. When Louis is 26 he gets kidnapped and taken to another country but luckily he escapes before anything serious happens (such as rape) and goes to the nearest police station aka where Harry the officer works and let's just say that Harry isn't too fond of Louis but that changes along the way.
> 
>  
> 
> Quote used for inspiration:  
> "I want to be where your bare foot walks, because maybe before you step, you'll look at the ground. I want that blessing."  
> — Rumi
> 
>  
> 
> Also inspired by:  
> Florence + the Machine — South London Forever

_"We tremble, thinking we're about to dissolve_

_into nonexistence, but nonexistence_

_fears even more that it might be given human form!"_

_— Rumi, What hurts the soul?_

* * *

 

The first thing Louis feels is the pain, a hot tingling sensation starting from his toes as the rest of his body remained still. His joints were stiff and his eyelids felt heavy, it was like weights were hanging off his eyelashes. Louis slowly regains his senses, but the sounds around him were still muffled and the constant rocking of his body was worsening his cruel pounding headache.

Faint images of when he was first conscious comb over his thoughts like a tsunami. It was supposed to be a fun night out with his closest friends. It was all planned, first, they were to get smashed and maybe smoke a few joints, and dance until it felt like they were walking on glass. Louis was supposed to have the best night of his life by celebrating his twenty-sixth birthday in one of the most popular clubs in London.

Louis doesn't remember leaving the club, though he remembers meeting a good looking man with shoulder-length blond hair and kind brown eyes. He recalls the man buying him several drinks, to which Louis always accepted—oblivious he was.

By the time his friends had gone home with their dates, Louis was completely wasted. Gulping down every drink handed to him and hanging off the shoulder of the pretty blond man.

Next thing Louis knew was that he was sweating and aroused, terribly so. He also felt sleepy and nauseous, and he said so to the blond man. Everything from then on was blurry.

Fear settles in the pit of Louis' stomach. He was expecting the worst, even though everything was a nightmare already. It was unknown how long he's been unconscious for—it could be hours or possibly even days. As Louis' breath picks up and he can finally wiggle his fingers, and with his thoughts running as fast as lightning, Louis finds the strength to open his eyes.

The first thing he sees is a lone light bulb danging over his head, and wood planks nailed above him and more beside him. It felt impossible to move anything but his fingers, but he still attempted to prop himself on his elbows and a few failed attempts, Louis was able to fully take in his surroundings.

There were small metal wire cages digging uncomfortably into his sides, and there were nets in a mess by his feet. Then, came the awful smell. It was burning his nostrils and made his eyes water. By sitting up quickly, he gave himself whiplash. Louis looks down at his shirt and is welcomed with a large stain, the brown chunks in contrast to the black fabric and Louis knew exactly where the odor was coming from.

Louis could tell from the supplies surrounding himself that he was on a fishing boat. It was an old one by the look of the rotting wood and rusted metal traps. Louis felt dirty, he felt lost and mostly, he felt violated.

The rocking of the boat was doing nothing to help his panicky state, it only made him hunch over and throw up whatever he had left in his stomach. He vomits on his shoes, gagging from the strong stench and crying as he does so.

Louis was more scared than confused. With the little strength he has, Louis slowly stands on his shaking legs to try the doorknob but it's locked. He brushes off his headache and the aches all over his body to drop down to his knees, looking through the small crack at the side of the door but he sees nothing but darkness.

There were sounds of voices, lowered to whispers and the rocking of the boat had decreased into small knocks. He hears the engine cut off and gasps, wiggling the doorknob roughly and twisting it. The tears stream faster down his face and Louis holds in his sobs when he hears footsteps approaching. Louis tries looking around for anything to help him, but he's too late. The door is swung open and he was yanked out by the back of his shirt. It chokes him and he cries out in pain as his body is roughly pulled from the small closet and pushed onto the ground without mercy.

Louis' head slams against the wall and he feels throbbing, letting out a whimper when a sting shoots up his spine. He sits up, reaching behind his head and sees red covering his fingers through his blurry vision.

"Ay Jackson, you best be careful with 'em." A voice speaks. "Know you got med training on ya' belt, but Jesus."

The man towering over Louis doesn't reply, instead, he kneels down and pulls Louis' head to the side. The London boy manages to blink through his tears and push away the man with both his hands. He struggles before he feels a sharp pain erupt from the side of his neck. Gaining strength to kick away his captivator and quickly stand to his feet, Louis ignores the dizziness clouding his brain and holds onto the wall before bolting to the staircase he sees. He uses all his strength to push the small wooden door open and loses all breath.

There was water, a lot of it, surrounding him. In the dark abyss that was the sky, he lost himself. Louis froze for a moment, finding himself gazing into the bright moon before he snaps out of it. He runs to the side of the boat ready to swim however far he can get from his captivators.

Louis was terrified of what would happen if he stayed on the boat for another second.

"The Atlantic Ocean looks the best at night."

Louis sniffles and ignores the owner of the voice, though his rush only made him ignorant. The voice was directly behind him and as was his captivator. Louis doesn't get one toe in the water before a sharp pain in his neck jolts his bones and everything goes black.

 

 

Waking up again is easier, though only by a slight amount. Louis opens his eyes and is immediately blinded by the bright light above him,

"Hit your head pretty damn hard back on the boat."

Louis holds his breath when he sees a familiar tall man. He was the same tall man from that night at the club, only his clothes are different—wearing black slacks and a dark blue button up, and glasses on the tip on his nose. Louis could only assume that the man was Jackson from what he can remember on the boat, though the other and the much older man was still unknown.

"Needed to give you stitches." He had an accent, though Louis couldn't put a finger on it.

On instinct, Louis reaches up and touches the back of his head, but his hand is smacked away.

"Don't touch it, your hands are dirty and you'll get an infection." Jackson turns around, facing away and that's when Louis sees the medical equipment scattered around the room, sharp metal tools on a tray by Jackson's side, and Louis hasn't forgotten his one and only objective, to escape.

His hands weren't bound, but one of his legs was. It was strapped down to the plush lounger he was in. Louis doesn't waste any time, slowly reaching over to the tray of medical tools, his fingertips graze a scalpel but a large latex gloved hand grasps his wrist and it makes Louis' whole body turn cold.

"What exactly do you think you're doing?" Jackson's voice sends chilling shivers down Louis' spine.

"I—I.." Louis clears his throat but tries to remain calm. "I w—wanted water." He weakly points to the bottle on the tray in the far corner.

Jackson's cold glare softens the slightest as he lets go of Louis' wrist. "Oh, in that case, I'll go get you a nice cold glass." He shoots Louis a creepy grin and snaps off his latex gloves.

Louis watches, bewildered and relieved as Jackson leaves the room with only one look over his shoulder. "I'll be right back."

Louis wasn't stupid, and he quickly tries to unbound his leg but there seems to be some sort of metal latch keeping it from being undone. Quickly thinking, Louis yanks the tray of metal equipment closer to himself and grabs a pair of scissors but they are no help either.

 

 

The door of the room swings open and Jackson appears with a bright smile on his face and a glass in his hand. He steps into the room and locks the door behind himself.

Jackson begins walking towards Louis, then stands in front of the silent boy and holds out the glass. "Got your water, wasn't sure if you wanted lemon—" He's cut off by his own scream, the sharp object in Louis' hand going straight for his chest, though he stumbles back and drops the glass. He frantically checks himself for any injuries and comes up empty, the worst being the slice in his button up.

Louis was too slow and too weak to object to Jackson ripping away the weapon. The brown-eyed man tsks. "Well, I guess you aren't very happy."

"Fuck you!" Louis screams, taking out a pair of scissors from behind his back and through his rushed movement, he only gets one tiny cut on Jackson's arm. That is taken away too, just as quick as the scalpel.

"That isn't very nice, Louis."

"Let me go!" Louis shouts as he watches Jackson drop the pill into the bottle of water from the tray, completely ignoring the broken glass by his shiny black shoes.

"I'll just have to keep an eye on you, for now, I guess."

Jackson straddles Louis' waist and pinches his nose shut with his fingers. He forcefully holds Louis' hands down by his knees, the bones digging into the skin as he holds the bottle up to the man's lips. "Drink it, or I'll make you." His brown eyes dare Louis to disobey. As the smaller of the two makes no moves, Jackson smirks. "The latter it is."

Louis sputters, the water being forced down his throat and some goes up his nose and it burns. He can't do anything but swallow the water and the drug that dissolve in it.

 

 

There aren't any windows to tell Louis where he is and he hasn't seen the sun once since Jackson took him.

He can only tell how long it's been through the meals what Jackson brings him. Three meals mean one day. It always starts off with his breakfast, eggs and some toast, then what he can only assume is his lunch is a sandwich and his last meal is always a bowl of soup. So far Jackson has brought Louis four bowls of soup. Though since Louis hasn't stopped fighting Jackson, he also had to deal with the consequences. Louis refuses to be forced into submission to a sick man like Jackson. One morning, Louis landed a good punch on Jackson's face, and the man stormed off. Louis also didn't get any of his meals for that day and the next.

If he was correct, Louis has been in Jackson's hellhole for five days. Maybe six if he counts the first night. Or it might be seven if he counts the boat trip. Or maybe even more, it hurt Louis' brain to think about his captivity.

Louis wonders if his family noticed his disappearance, surely his boss and co-workers did. He always calls his family once a week, on Thursday. Louis went to the club on a Friday night, and he can only hope that his friends reported his disappearance. Maybe they had a search party, maybe his face was plastered all over the news and there were endless cops on the London streets searching for him.

He was trapped in his room. It was a basement. A small little bed pushed up against the corner and one light bulb above him. There was a closet in across from it and Louis remembers seeing sweaters and pants on the shelves. He's only showered once, the second day he was here, he spilled soup all over himself. It was hot and burned his skin and the area around his thighs was now marked and paler than the rest of him.

Jackson only lets Louis use the bathroom in his room that was missing a door but it had no shower. He did scream and kick at Jackson whenever he would come near him, but that all stopped when the man hit Louis so roughly that his nose started bleeding. Louis then only shouted and yelled when he was alone if Jackson ripped him from his home and from his family and friends, Louis wasn't going to let him sleep one second. But, Louis stopped after Jackson barged into his room and jabbed another needle into Louis' neck. And when Louis woke up, he cried harder than ever before.

The silence in the room is killing him. It made him want to claw off his ears, he even resulted in ripping open his pillow and stuffing the fluff in his ears in hopes of muffling the ear-splitting silence.

He never knew that silence could be so loud.

 

 

"Where am I?"

Louis' voice seems to startle Jackson, the latter jumping. He then thinks for a moment, his eyes gazing over Louis' body causing the man to curl further into the corner.

"You're in a wee-little town in Canada, Louis." The way his name rolled off Jackson's tongue gave him goosebumps. "It's called Jasper."

Louis swallows the lump in his throat. He's cried enough in front of Jackson, and the man remained as hard as stone. Louis' body became accustomed to his tears but eventually ran out. There was nothing left to give.

"Can I go outside?"

"I'm not stupid." Jackson retorts. "You're not going anywhere."

"Listen, you may know the human body but you know nothing about the mind. I will go crazy if I don't see anything beyond this room, wouldn't want me dying before you could do anything to me, right?"

Jackson wasn't that buff, more between average and scrawny in Louis' opinion. But, Jackson now had that horrifying belt on his waist that held whatever drug he used on Louis and Louis was going to stay far away from him.

His captivator thinks for a moment, his brown eyes casting over Louis' clothed body. His gaze was disgusting, and undressing Louis before a smirk found its way onto his face.

"Alright, we'll go out after lunch."

 

 

Louis was determined to escape today, he was going run down the driveway and scream as loud as he can. Surely, there needs to be at least someone close enough to hear him.

All hope is lost when Louis sees his surroundings. It was water and by the looks of it, it was a lake. There was the only small piece of land he was on and it was a thin red dock which Jackson had closed off with a tall gate and metal fences around the perimeter of the land. The air was cold, but refreshing in contrast to the stuffy basement air Louis had almost become accustomed to. Trees surrounding the water, they were tall and green and through the clouds, Louis could almost see mountains in the distance. He was truly trapped in the middle of nowhere with a man who was going to steal away his humanity.

Louis refused to give up and listens vaguely to Jackson talking about his rules. "If you scream, I won't hesitate to shock you." Jackson holds up a small remote and gestures to the collar around Louis' neck, "50 to 120 volts will go through your body and you better count on never seeing the sun again."

Louis clenches his hands and quickly turns away from Jackson, he walks over to a lounge chair and sits down. He was wearing a jacket Jackson gave him, and it kept the winds from chilling his sensitive skin. Before Louis even has a chance to escape, he needs to distract Jackson long enough for him to get the shock collar off.

"Don't even think about ripping that thing off." Jackson sits next to Louis on his own lounge chair. "The only way of getting that thing off is with this key." He reaches into his shirt and pulls out a tiny key on a chain. "And a code on the padlock. Oh, and it's waterproof."

Louis doesn't say a word and looks away from his kidnapper. If his eyes weren't playing tricks on him, Louis was positive he could see a small, barely there, dock in the distance. It was far, but Louis was on the swim team. He could make it. He knows it.

The two have been out for hours, at least that's what Louis thinks with the sun descending from above him to the horizon. Louis hadn't said a word, but when he hears snores, he quickly yanks at his collar. Jackson wasn't lying, and that caused Louis to slump.

The key was over his chest, with his crossed arms inches by it. Taking a deep breath, Louis slowly moves his hand closer and closer to the small metal key that was on Jackson's raising and falling chest. At that moment, Jackson mumbles something incoherent and turns the other way, his back facing Louis.

The blue-eyed boy soon realizes that it will be more complicated than simply getting the key and leaving, as he still needed the code for the collar as well. He could scream, but Jackson would wake up and he'd probably do much worse to Louis than starve him. Louis could hop the fence and never have to see Jackson again. He'd swim all the way to that dock and get help.

Louis didn't wait another moment before standing from his chair and bolting to the fence. Looking up at the incredibly tall fence with barbed wire, Louis knew there was no way he could land quietly in the water without waking Jackson, thus getting electrocuted in the water and probably dying. The barbed wire wasn't helping, he'd probably cut his leg or even get stuck at the top of the fence.

He takes one look back at his sleeping kidnapper and an idea pops into his head, walking back over to the loungers and kneeling to the ground. Louis is as still as possible when he takes the remote from where it was poking out of Jackson's pocket, he was going to chuck it in the water but then he noticed it was latched onto Jackson's belt and the only way to remove it was to remove his belt.

 

 

A loud splash tore Jackson away from his sleep. Instantly, he sits up and sees a body quickly swimming away in the water.

"Louis!" He screams, grabbing the remote and pressing the highest setting and he shouts in anger when his victim gets further away. "Louis!" He jabs his fingers on the button and stomps to the fence, getting frustrated and smacks his palm on the remote. "Work, you stupid thing!" It's like everything turns upside down, and the remote feels lighter than the first time he held it, and to his distaste, when he opens the backing and the batteries are gone.

 

 

"He was banging on our back door at home."

"And where do you live?"

"Right by Peektoe Lake."

The officer eyes the couple suspiciously. "And, he hasn't told you anything?"

The woman shakes her head, holding tightly to her husband's hand. "No, we think it was the water temperature. Maybe shock?"

"Well, he was just checked up."

The woman glances at the frozen boy with sympathetic eyes. He was so small and so pale. "Please call if anything comes up, he gave us quite the fright."

The brown-eyed officer nods then stands. "Of course, we'll keep you updated." After he says goodbye to the couple, he hears a familiar voice. Looking for the owner, he quietly exits his cubical.

"Hey, I need a favour."

The green-eyed man shrugs off his coat and fixes his hat. "Well, hello to you too, Liam." Harry runs a hand through his hair.

"I need you to go down to Peektoe lake." Liam begins leading Harry back to his desk. "This couple brought in this man. They said he was banging on their door and he had this collar on him." He stops right by his cubical, hands on his hips. "That's him." He nods toward the fragile frame. "So, will you do it?"

Harry's silence leads Liam to continue.

"Look, I didn't tell the couple this but, the doctor found traces of GHB in his system." Liam sighs, pity visible in his expression. "A shock collar and GHB? Sounds awfully like kidnapping if you'd ask me." Liam observes the boy, shivering under his many blankets and wet clothes. His hair a damp mess atop his head and skin a sickly white. "Take some other officers with you, and I'll give you the couple's address. Then you check out the neighbourhood and report back to me."

Liam nearly jumps at the loud sneeze that erupts from the boy and one second later and Liam is crowding him. "Hey, is there anything you need?" Liam asks. "Hot chocolate? You want to change to those new clothes now?" He points t the dry clothes in the boy's lap.

In a cracked high voice, he asks, "may I call my mom?" The blue-eyed boy then quickly averts his gaze to his feet.

Liam was surprised by his voice, much more his accent and nods quickly. Liam steps back and gestures to the landline on his desk. "Only if you change out of those wet clothes right after, then go ahead."

Louis surges forward and types out a number on the phone. As the telephone rings, Liam pulls Harry towards the front of the station, and the last thing Harry sees is a fresh wave of tears streaming down Louis' cheeks.

Once they're far enough, Harry lets out a long breath. "He looks so different."

Liam's eyes widen as his steps flatter. Then he says, "you two," he points between the direction of his cubical and Harry. "You two know each other?"

Harry's eyes bore into Liam's, the green looking like a pool of moss. "Back in Holmes Chapel, we went to school together."

"Oh," Liam says shortly. "Small world, huh?"

Harry looks over his shoulder and he sees Louis wiping his eyes with his towel. "Small world indeed." 

 


	2. 2. South London Forever I

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, this is a fan-fiction. Fan-FICTION.  
> I do not own one direction, I am not a medical profession, and I do not study law. I am changing things around and making up false information to make this story the way I want.

_"And I don't know anything_  
_Except that green is so green_  
_And there's a special kind of sadness that seems to come with spring."_  
_— Florence + the Machine, South London Forever_  


* * *

 

His mother was hysterical. Very much so that she was on her way to the airport. She took time off work and hopping on a plane to Jasper and left her kids with Louis' aunt.

As promised, Louis changes after his phone call. He is escorted to the washroom, and away from all the buzzing officers and townspeople. For the first time in seven days, he sees himself in the reflection of the mirror.

His skin had a grey undertone and the bags under his eyes were near to black. His lips were cracked from the cold and had a muted pink colour. The dullness in his eyes is what surprised him the most. The usual bright blue was now a foggy cerulean. His hair matted and knotted atop his head, falling over his dead eyes. Louis avoids looking at his bare body, he didn't want to see what pushed Jackson into taking him.

 

 

"Liam, nothing interesting in that neighbourhood by Peektoe but I talked to that couple, turns out they have security cameras around their house," Harry says. "I watched the part where Louis walked up to their door."

"What happened?" Liam inquires.

"He came from the South end of the lake. I went over to the next house and it was gated off. I tried the buzzer and no one answered."

At that moment, the washroom door opens and that god awful creak sounding through the narrow hallway. Louis is the center of attention. And, Liam sees the expression on the London boy's face and the tears threatening to spill from his eyes. "What's wrong?" Liam asks cutting off his and Harry's conversation.

After seconds that dragged on, Louis answers with a quiet voice. "I saw myself." Both officers had to strain their ears to hear Louis.

Liam lowers his voice. "Why is that wrong?"

Louis looks up at them and is astonished to see a familiar face. Those same green eyes he remembers from his teen years in London, that curly brown hair now in soft waves and those pink lips he knew all too well. A wave of bewilderment flows over him, but Liam snaps him out of it. "Louis."

"He didn't have mirrors." Louis casts his gaze back on his sock-clad feet.

The brown-eyed officer steps back, "Did 'he' have a name?"

Louis froze, like a deer in headlights. It was different thinking of Jackson in contrast to saying his name was much worse. It brought up the fact that he was real, and that he wasn't someone Louis conjured up in his mind. He was a real man who drugged Louis at a London bar and took him on a boat to Canada. Saying his name was saying that for the first time in Louis' life, monsters were real.

In response to Liam's question, Louis silently shakes his head and begins his way back to Liam's cubical. The sounds around him are almost muffled but he hears Liam's and Harry's conversation loud and clear.

"So, do you think that's the house?"

Harry clears his throat. "We won't know unless he says something."

Louis tries not to flinch at the bitterness in Harry's tone. It was clear that Louis' appearance has erupted the same discomfort as it has for Louis when he saw the tall man. He felt like a stranger, though he was. It wasn't the fact that he was in a new town, in an entirely new country and continent that made him feel like an alien. It was the way Harry looked at him, his green eyes never looked so cold, and almost angry. His attitude told more than his facial expressions though. He didn't like Louis' presence one bit.

 

 

Liam clears his throat before kneeling by Louis' legs. His kind and welcoming brown eyes make the goosebumps disappear on Louis' skin. "Are you ready to talk now?"

In a sick way, Louis was more scared of being in a police station than in Jackson's hold. At least he knew where the man was. He knew the daily schedule and what was bound to happen. Here, sitting in a hard plastic chair with no idea where his kidnapper was hiding—Louis felt a lump rise in his throat and shakes his head.

Harry scoffs.

"Okay." Liam's tone is gentle, he stands back up to his full height and knees crack before leaving his cubical, right after Harry.

Louis let out a breath of relief. Harry's unnerving presence was suffocating. 

 

 

"Are you cold?"

Louis shrinks further into the chair. Momentarily glancing at the pants very well drag on the floor as he walks and the shirt draped over him, the sleeves passing his fingertips. "A little."

"Harry, will you get me a jacket?" Liam calls out loud. The phones ringing and the many voices were giving Louis a headache, it was all a little too loud for Louis' liking. Not to mention the bright lights hanging from the ceiling.

Over in the next cubical, Harry stands and catches Louis' eye. Instead of staring, Louis' gaze returns to Liam, the man sitting before him in a chair similar to his. A notepad in his hand and a pen between his fingers.

"Can you at least tell me his name?" Liam asks, leaning forward on his knees.

Louis felt as if saying Jackson's name would bring the man to appear. He wanted to go the rest of eternity never acknowledging the man.

Louis shakes his head again.

A sigh sounds from Liam, he had plenty of patience though his frustration was more for Louis' well-being than his own. The first step to growing from traumatic experiences is to talk about it—and the London boy's lips were sealed.

"Are you hungry?"

Louis nods, just as Harry returns. He's holding a thick long coat, it's a dark blue and will surely keep Louis warm enough. The officer hands it to Louis, then is leaving before the boy can even thank him.

"Horan!" Liam calls out, causing a blond head to pop up from a cubical. "Take Louis to the lunchroom, please. Find him something to eat."

With Louis gone, Liam can finally drop his head on his desk. He lets out a long breath and almost jumps when he hears a voice.

"Angry?"

Liam knows it's Harry from the slightly faded English accent. "No."

"Sure looks like it." The other man notes. There's a soft creaking and Liam assumes Harry's sat in the chair before his desk.

"I did some research on the address of the gated property. It's owned by the Millards."

Liam sits up, raising a brow. The Millards were one of the most elite families in Alberta. Their family is known for their large impact on oil industries and the status of their bank account is in the billions. The Millards owned plenty of estates in the province, and one is under as much suspicion as the one by Peektoe lake was enough to bring in reporters.

"I'll give the Millards a call, and you take Louis to the doctors after he's done eating." Liam orders, already reaching for the landline on his desk.

Harry slowly rises from the chair. "He was already checked up."

Liam rolls his eyes and if he weren't so worked up, he'd probably apologize. "By Horan, you trust a guy who dropped out of medical school?"

"At least he went," Harry mutters.

Liam brushes off the other officer's words. "Listen, we found Louis' files. All we need is a legit checkup from a licensed doctor." Liam says. "Then, he comes back and we can determine if he's in the right mindset to give us his statement—if the Millards are a part of his kidnapping that is."

 

 

"Where do you think you're going?"

The shining badge Louis dreaded seeing was only a mere inch from his nose. He takes a deep breath and keeps his stare on his dirty socks. "I wanted fresh air."

Harry remains still before him. His chin reaching the top of Louis' head, and the blue-eyes boy tries not to think of how much he grew.

Louis used to be taller than Harry, after all, he was older. The last time he saw Harry was years ago when Harry grew to the same height as Louis but they were both in their teens. Harry was now bigger, and broader in every aspect in contrast to the pudgy sixteen-year-old Louis vaguely remembers seeing back in London.

Now, Harry was probably twenty-three and  _an adult_. His uniform stretched around his shoulders and his biceps. The material a deep blue, clean of any lint and wrinkles.

"Are you going to move?"

Louis tightens his hold on the coat and quickly steps to the side to let Harry pass but the officer stays put. The tension was thick between them, Louis wanted to cut it with a knife.

"Officer Payne wants me to take you to an actual doctors office."

Louis looks up, Harry is already staring at him. "Okay?"

"All right, move."

"I.." Louis blinks rapidly.

"Well?" Harry urges, obviously irritated. "Go on."

"I don't have shoes." Louis keeps his gaze glued to his wiggling toes in his socks.

 

 

"There's a lot of snow," Louis notes, watching the snow slide off the tips of the boots that were too large for him. He even tied the laces extra tight but the shoes still dragged on the ground with every step.

Harry turns the heat up in the car. "It's winter."

"This is a lot, even for winter." The snow finally starts melting off Louis' boots.

"It's Canada." Harry ended the conversation there.

The tension in the car was making Louis feel so small, so insignificant. He instead focuses on the sound of the tires crushing snow and the soft hum of the engine. Louis wants to dig his fingertips over the worn leather of the vehicle, but he keeps his hands tucked into the pockets of his coat.

"I like your car." Louis compliments quietly.

"It's a truck." Harry corrects.

The London boy gulps, shrinking into himself. "I like your truck." He murmurs.

Harry sits stiffly in his seat when they come up to a red light. "My parents bought it for me when I became a part of the RCMP."

Louis looks outside as the people cross the road, all bundled up tightly in their coats, scarves, and hats. "What's that?"

"Royal Canadian Mountain Police."

"Oh," Louis turns, with a quirked brow. "That sounds... Royal?" He attempts to lighten the mood because, at the moment, it was still incredibly tense.

Harry doesn't laugh, not one bit. He doesn't even smile the least.

"So, you weren't always here?"

"What do you mean?"

"Here." Louis gestures around them. "In Jasper."

"No," Harry answers curtly as they begin driving again. "I joined Jasper's force just two years ago."

"Why?" Louis wants to keep talking. He hasn't seen Harry in so long and finally, the man isn't being so bitter.

Though, the car comes to a stop. And Harry cuts the ignition. "We're here."

 

 

It isn't long until Louis steps into the doctor's office and is sat on the cushioned table. It was like Harry was allergic to Louis because as soon as the doctor walked in, he made a quick move to leave. "I'll be outside."

"Officer Styles," the doctor says abruptly. "You don't want to stay?"

Harry shakes his head. "I'd rather not, thank you, Dr. Bloom."

"Would you rather have Officer Styles stay?" The doctor turns to Louis, her glasses on the tip of her nose.

Louis gulps. He didn't like feeling like he was a burden, but Harry already made that very clear. The last thing he wanted to do is give Harry another reason to hate him, just like he did all those years ago. So he shakes his head. "No, thank you."

Then, Harry's green eyes slowly comb over Louis' small frame before the door shuts.

"Well, Louis. I already spoke with Officer Payne and he told me of your.. condition." The doctor pulls a small stool closer to Louis. "How are you feeling?"

Louis looks down at his feet. "I don't know."

Dr. Bloom takes off her glasses and gently places them on the table. "I understand what you went through, but I need you to communicate with me." She folds her hands in her lap. "Can you do that for me?"

Louis didn't know what made him so nervous all of a sudden, maybe it was the fact that the blinds were wide open, or Dr. Bloom had an odd quirk in her brow, or it was the fact that Harry was gone—but surely it wasn't that. He finds it in himself to nod slowly. "I can try."

Dr. Bloom smiles, her straight pearly white teeth nearly blinding him. "Great. Now, I'll just ask you a few questions and we can get started on your blood tests and all that. Okay?"

Just when Louis is about to nod again, a knock on the door sounds. Not a moment later, it's open and a dark blue hat pokes its way in.

"My apologies, Dr. Bloom. I just need something." The smile on Harry's face has Louis staring a little too long. "My jacket." Harry holds out an open palm.

Louis slumps then proceed to slip off the large parka and pass it to the officer. And with that, Harry leaves. With a tip of his hat at the doctor and no last glance at Louis. 


	3. 3. Light.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes, I know. In this story, Harry is complete dick. But hey, wait a lil bit. Okay.
> 
>  
> 
> I absolutely love all the comments this story is getting. I really love reading all your opinions and thoughts on Harry's extreme pettiness towards Louis — though, you'll know in due time. And I did some research on GHB though some things may be inaccurate.

_The wound is the place where the Light enters you._

_— Rumi_

 

* * *

 

"We haven't seen our son in years. Last we heard of him, he was off at a medical school in London." Mrs. Millard voice carries through the phone. "Is he in any trouble?"

Liam thinks for a moment. "I would rather tell you in person. Are you in town?"

The woman sighs over the phone. "We are in California for vacation but if it's urgent..."

"It is."

Mrs. Millard pauses before speaking. "We will be on our jet back to Jasper by tonight."  
  
  
  
  
  
  


"I'd say that he's suffering from a mild case of PTSD. I also found traces of  _gamma-hydroxybutyrate_  in his system. Officer Payne informed me of what Mr. Tomlinson went through," Dr. Bloom purses her lips. "And, from the trauma, there is no telling if Mr. Tomlinson is fit to give his statement, though encouragement will help."

The tall officer takes a glance at the London boy sitting in his truck. The foggy windows blurring his face a bit. An indescribable weight filling his chest. "Okay."

Dr. Bloom eyes him warily. Then reads off her clipboard. "Though, whoever was injecting him with  _GHB_  clearly knew what they were doing. Had training in medicine I'd say."

That catches Harry's attention, he faces the short woman and furrows his brows.

Seeing Harry's expression, Dr. Bloom explains, "The doses that were given to Mr. Tomlinson were only enough to give him short term effects, which last about three to five hours." she states, tipping her glasses to the tip of her nose. "Short term effects aren't severe, though they do cause memory lapses, a decrease in heart rate, and body temperature. Though the first time Mr. Tomlinson was given  _GHB_  was with alcohol, and that makes the effects worse."

She continues to read off her clipboard. "The person who injected Mr. Tomlinson most likely knew the risks of using such a dangerous drug and they kept their work environment clean. Say if the suspect had several hostages, and they were sharing the needles for each hostage, all of those people would have increased chances of getting Hepatitis B and C, HIV, or vein damage—or even with the possibility of getting deep vein clots, in result they could lose a limb and damage their organs."

Harry cringes.

"And since Mr. Tomlinson has used the drug unwillingly for a week or so, the chances of him becoming addicted are slim, but I would still like to have a checkup with him next week."

Dr. Bloom steps to the side and lowers her voice. Her tone becoming more serious and less professional. "The dose of GHB is based on one's body weight and there is a very small difference between using GBH for the pleasure of oneself and overdosing." Her eyes soften. "In Mr. Tomlinson's case, a greater dose would have had the strength to put him in a coma, or even kill him."  
  
  
  
  
  


"Louis," a voice wonders. "Are you ready?"

Nothing but a shaky breath in reply.

"You're safe here, Louis. No one is going to hurt you." Liam's voice is firm but comforting. "No one will hurt you like that again."

That was when Harry leaves again. After bringing Louis back from the doctors, he walked him to Liam's cubical. It was nearing the end of the day, and almost to when he was able to go home.

A hand touches his shoulder. "Hey, haven't seen you all day. You leaving now?" It was Niall, the blond officer slipping on his coat and buttoning it to his chin. "It's snowing outside again."

Harry shrugs. "I still have an hour."

"Damn, was going to ask if you wanted to go to that diner across town." The blond whistles lowly.

"Tomorrow?" Harry tries, he gets a nod in reply then Niall is walking out the doors of the station.

That was when Harry noticed that most of his colleagues had gone home too. The station now had the night shift officers, all sitting in their cubicles and some on the phone. It was nice like this, it was peaceful. That's what Harry loved about Jasper, it was quiet and small.  
  
  
  
  
  


Just before Harry was able to leave, Liam stops him and nearly drags him to away from the door.

"We live in one of the smallest towns and there aren't many places for Louis' kidnapper to hide—and before he's found, Louis needs to be under someone's watchful eye. He's going to need somewhere to stay."

"With me?" Harry's brows furrow. Louis takes that as his cue to pretend to look busy—as busy as he can with a pen and notepad.

Liam blinks. "But as of right now, Louis needs to be under strict protection since his kidnapper is still out there. It's either he stays with you or he stays at a motel that you'll have to sit out of."

Louis can feel Harry's cold eyes burning into his forehead.

"He's staying at a motel."  
  
  
  
  
  


Louis didn't expect Harry to let him into his home with open arms so he didn't know why it hurt so much. When being handed off to Harry, Louis didn't say a word. To be honest, he would rather walk to the motel because after all, the weather outside seemed like summer in contrast to Harry's bitterness.  
  
  
  
  
  


It was like the world was giving Louis a break.

"Oh, honey." His mother was crying into his shoulder.

She was standing in the lobby of the motel upon his arrival, but Harry remained in his truck and let Louis leave. His mom didn't question the big jacket hanging off his shoulders and took him in her arms without a thought.

"Happy New Years Eve, darling." She whispers. "Oh, that reminds me. I brought your Christmas present."

Louis blinks. He hadn't even realized he missed Christmas, he missed the first day of him being twenty-six. Being in Jackson's captivity was like being in a place with no time yet all the time in the world. His mind couldn't wrap around the fact that he forgot about his favourite holiday, and he didn't even know that it was going to be a new year, a fresh start for some people, in a couple hours. And here he was, unable to move on.

His mother notices his smile flatter and stops ruffling through her bag to offer him another hug.

"I missed it." Louis feels his bottom lip wobble. "I missed Christmas." Though this time, they both cried.  
  
  
  
  
  


Louis hated this, he hated saying goodbye. It felt as if his mother had just arrived and here she was leaving again. Her purse was the only thing she brought, and the clothes on her back. They spent hours in his motel room, the cozy little bed being where they napped and stood at the windowsill where they cried again. He missed his mother dearly, and seeing her go was breaking the little bit of his heart that she just healed with her presence.

_"How long are you staying?"_

_His mother frowns, and her shoulder slouch. "My flight back home is tonight." She didn't look up to meet his eyes. "Your aunt can't take care of the girls for longer. Not with her own two newborns."_

_"Happy New Years, Lou." She kisses her son's cheek. "I'll be back to take you home, okay?"_   
  
  
  
  
  


Harry is there in the lobby, dressed in a pair of black sweat pants and a grey turtleneck, holding a few extra blankets. He sees Louis returning from the corner street and furrows his brows. He steps out the lobby and is welcomed by the cool night air and when the boy is close enough, he asks, "Where did you go?"

"I walked my mother out." Louis' voice cracks, he rubs his arms with his hands.

"You aren't allowed to go anywhere without me," Harry recalls Liam's rules. "Or at least, without telling me."

"It's not my fault you didn't see me outside." Louis frowns, his breath coming out white. "Why do you have blankets?"

Harry runs a hand through his hair. "It's cold in my truck."

"You're sleeping in your truck?" Louis asks, with a sleepy yawn into the sleeve of Harry's big blue jacket. "Why don't you just get a room?"

Harry doesn't say a word, either he's thinking hard about something or he's genuinely considering Louis' much smarter and well-thought-out idea. "Where's your dad?" Harry asks bluntly.

The blue-eyed boy doesn't move and his whole body goes rigid. He's quiet for a few moments and Harry doesn't make any moves either.

Louis gulps. "He died. A year ago." The boy pauses and waits for Harry to say something. But nothing comes. So Louis goes towards his room.

"Wait," Harry calls out.

Louis slowly turns, he sees Harry's red cheeks and glossy eyes. He knows that expression, it only confirms his thoughts further when he sees Harry quickly wipe his eyes.

"What?"

A series of emotions pass through Harry's eyes and they both stand there for what feels like a few minutes, the cold biting at his skin, and the absolute silence of the empty street. Their faces only illuminated by the dim motel light.

It isn't until Harry's profusely blinking his eyes when he answers. "I'm sorry."

Louis is speechless, he almost didn't expect that from Harry.

Of course, he knew Harry. He knew the man's bad habits and his good ones, he knew his likes and dislikes, hell, he even knew Harry's hopes and dreams. But now, it seems like all of that has changed. And so has Harry.

The man before him was so different in so many ways, yet so familiar.

"It's okay." It's not, Louis knows that, and Harry knows that.

Harry looks conflicted. Biting his lip and his eyes wandering between Louis' face and the lamps hanging from the wooden planks above their heads.

Louis promises himself to tell Harry everything he wanted to know at that moment and all the man had to do was ask.

"Okay." Is all Harry's reply.

Louis almost feels angry. He wants Harry to ask because it's right—because Harry should be the one to say something first. Not Louis, he should ask the questions that his eyes inquire.

"Louis," Harry's voice rings out and the blue-eyed boy looks over his shoulder.

"Happy New Years." 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so sorry for the late update !! I hope you enjoyed it :^)


	4. 4. Pain.

_The cure for pain is in the pain._  
_— Rumi_

* * *

 

Pain was something that Harry knew all too well. Whether it was unintentional pain that weighed on him, or it was physical pain that clawed and tore at his skin. In Harry's eyes, when pain subsided, it left room not only for healing but for improvement. When times get tough, pain can hold its own cure, it's own medicine.

This was not that kind of pain. He would describe it more as, dreading pain. The kind that sucks the life out of you and leaves a stinging feeling behind. There was no relief in the end, and there was no medicine.

It was just Louis appearing out of nowhere and Harry doing his job. It didn't matter what happened in the past, and it didn't matter what Louis did to Harry or vice versa because it was strictly business. Even if Harry was getting paid to do what he thought of like babysitting, that didn't have any effect on his true thoughts of Louis and the whole case of his kidnapping. On the bottom line, Harry didn't like this. He didn't like waiting on Louis, he didn't like being his personal bodyguard. But Liam's words struck deep inside him.

 _"I don't care what went on between you too because it clearly isn't my business. But when it threatens Louis and his safety, you are putting him in danger. Would it kill you to just put it behind you?"_ And a part of Harry thinks it would kill him.

Harry tried to spend his night in his truck but eventually moved to a room next to Louis'. The cold at the dead of night was unkind. His toes were frozen as well as his fingers, so he didn't hesitate to blast the heater on and curl under three layers of blankets.

On the other side of the thin wall was Louis awake. His eyes glued on the curtainless window that was by the bathroom door. The moonlight shone through, casting shadows on the deep blue carpet floor. The London boy hadn't slept one wink ever since he retired to his room all that time ago. He tried watching television but it only irritated him, the corny shows with horrible jokes, and the news channels were just making him disgusted and depressed.  
  
  
  
  
  


Louis tugs his coat tightly around his body as the snow crunches beneath his boots. He walks to the big truck parked directly in front of his room. The blue sky greeting him with a couple of clouds scattered, the winds carrying the smell of the diner beside the motel along with the fresh scent of pine. Thank goodness it had stopped snowing. Louis wouldn't have been happy being trapped in his tiny motel room.

He knocks his fist lightly on the window, not wanting to startle Harry but didn't get any sort of reply. He knocks again, this time harder and cups his hands over his eyes before peering through the frosty window. He couldn't see all that much through the layer of frost on the glass.

Louis huffs and reaches into his pocket, taking out his glasses and cleaning the lenses with a soft part of his sleeve.

"You get locked out or somethin'?"

Out of surprise, Louis jumps and jostles himself so much that he drops his glasses. They clatter to the snow and sink in, disappearing in the white.

"Oh, sorry." The voice says again, the Canadian accent as clear as day. The person bends down and finds Louis' glasses in the snow. They blow off the little snowflakes and that was when Louis' sees the man's face.

He was a tall blond, a couple streaks of brown here and there. He had a strong jaw and a pointy nose. The man's eyes were dark brown, and he had dimples. He was a little cute in Louis' opinion.

"I'm so sorry. Didn't mean to frighten you." He smiles and shows off his perfectly straight white teeth.

"It's fine." Louis takes his glasses from the man's hand and slips them onto his face. He's about to walk back to his room, maybe wait for Harry to come knocking or watch some television but the man speaks up again.

"Your glasses are a little crooked."

Louis stifles a laugh and turns around. "Yeah, they're broken."

"Here." He reaches out and takes the glasses off Louis' face. That was when Louis noticed the tattoos on the man's hand. "I'll fix them for you." He grips the glasses tightly and twists his hands around. Louis' eyes widen when he hears a crack. The unknown man opens his hands to reveal Louis' broken glasses, one of the temples was certainly not connected to his glasses anymore. "Oh."

Louis doesn't have a chance to speak before the man is apologizing again. "I'm so, so sorry." He stares down at the broken glasses in his big hands. "I'll get them fixed, by a professional this time."

The London boy shakes his head. "It's fine—"

"No, it's not." The man says, determined. "I'll get them fixed and bring them back to you. Are you staying at this motel?"

Louis looks down at his snow-covered boots. "Not sure for how long."

"Oh, right. Sorry if I seem a little on the creepy side, that's not my intention. I'm sorry." He apologizes again. "Um, we can meet somewhere and I'll give them to you. I just feel terrible."

"You can just give me my glasses and I'll send you the bill if the money is what you're worried about."

The man laughs nervously, running a hand through his slightly messy hair. "I actually just want an excuse to see you again."

That shocks Louis. "You don't know me."

"Exactly, I could get to know you." The man offers Louis a small smile. "If you'd let me." He holds about a hand. "I'm Micheal."

Louis doesn't know why, but he finds himself agreeing to meet the man that goes by Micheal at "Metroally Cafe" in two days.

* * *

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I reread the confession scene I have saved and let me tell you, it makes me tear up a bit. I'm biased though. :^)  
> P.s be nice to harry


	5. 5. Not thunder.

_Raise your words, not voice. It is rain that grows flowers, not thunder._   
_—Rumi_

* * *

 

"Thank you," Louis says kindly to the nice waitress. He stares at his steaming bowl of soup, it was chicken noodle and had little chopped up carrots and potatoes. "So," He clears his throat, reaching for a spoon before dipping it into his soup. "How was your sleep?"

Harry merely glances up from his own breakfast, two omelets, a side of bacon and potatoes wedges. "I would've liked to sleep in my bed at home." The officer says in a monotone. "How was yours?"

Louis' face falls. "Oh, I didn't," his voice trails off into the stuffy air of the diner.

Harry leans closer. The sound of chatter and utensils were overpowering Louis' soft voice. "What?"

The London boy stirs his steaming soup slowly, peeking at Harry's intense stare from behind his lashes. "I didn't sleep." Louis breathes through his nose, suddenly feeling awfully out of place. He doesn't say anything else, only mixing his soup. 

"Why didn't you sleep?" Harry finally asks. He already suspected Louis didn't get much sleep considering the dark bags under his eyes. The London boy looked exhausted. 

"Why do you care anyway?" Louis snaps.

Harry freezes, fork halfway to his mouth and frowns. A wrinkle forms between his eyebrows as he tries to find the right words. "Louis," His voice trails off.

And Louis waits. He sits with his spoon clenched in his hand and waits for Harry to say something but no other words come. "Are you going to say anything else?" Louis mutters. 

"No." The officer waves for their waitress. "I have work today." Harry rolls his eyes, and that is the most emotion Louis' seen on Harry since his arrival. 

Harry was so bitter.

"Is everything alright here?" The waitress asks, her curly brown hair in a bun at the top of her head.

"Can we have this packed up in to-go containers, please?" Harry requests politely. The waitress walks away after taking Harry's plate and Louis' bowl just as the latter sets down his spoon.

Louis' mouth drops open. "We just got here." He didn't even get to taste his soup.

Harry checks his watch. "And now we're leaving."

 

 

"Harry," Liam greets from his cubical, immediately making his way to Harry. The department is practically empty like every morning, apart from the few officers in today.

The green-eyed officer hangs up jacket and kicks the snow off his shoes. "Morning."

"The Millards are going to be here by 4. I was wondering if you wanted to interview them with me," Liam searches for the smaller boy, the one with blue eyes. "Where's Louis?"

"In my truck." 

"Why is he waiting in your truck?"

Harry waves a hand dismissively. "He's just grumpy," Harry recalls waiting three seconds before telling Louis to get out—and the London boy only crossed his arms over his chest and scowled. So Harry left, leaving Louis in his truck without the heat on.

Liam frowns, he was rather annoyed and a bit angry at Harry's behaviour. "If you keep acting like this, I'll be forced to take you off this case. And, you know for a fact that in a small town like this, it's hard to even find the slightest bit of crime."

Harry knew how he was treating Louis. He was well aware of his actions and words, and how they were making the London boy feel. He didn't want to be so sour but everything just felt so out of reach. "Fine." He sighs.

"You'll be nice?"

Harry hates the look Liam gives him. "Yeah."

"Good." The man says triumphantly. "Now, I need a list of Jackson Millard's purchases before the night of December 24th."

 

 

"Harry, do you know where Metroally Cafe is?" Louis finally builds up the courage to ask. He's been sitting in Harry's cubical for an hour. After finishing his now cold soup, he had nothing to entertain himself with other than a pen and a notepad. 

"Yeah, why?" The officer mumbles, typing on his laptop. 

"Can you take me there, please?" Louis asks quietly, fearing rejection.

A few moments pass while Harry thinks—he promised he was going to be nice. "Okay. We'll go on my lunch break."

 

 

The car ride feels tense as always, but the muffled radio gives Louis some comfort. The boots on his feet still were too big, thankfully Liam handed him a smaller jacket before they left the department, and it was just Louis' size. Louis was more than happy when Harry said yes, a large part of him was expecting a no—he supposes this is Harry making up for his poor behaviour. He wanted to ask but he didn't want to push his luck, especially with his meeting with Micheal in two days.

Louis watches the small houses pass by, along with the snowflakes pile on his window. His eyes were a little irritated by the cold air, and he constantly had to rub them. His mind wandered aimlessly. Thinking about Jackson, and where he was and just the bare thought of the man was enough for Louis to subconsciously curl up. His thoughts soon trailed onto his mother, and that reminded him to phone her when he gets back to the police department. 

A few minutes later, Harry pulls into a small parking lot on the corner of a busy street. They both exit the truck and go to the door of the tiny cafe. The inside of the cafe is cozy. Light wooden tables and small photographs of mountains and trees hung on the walls. Small little lanterns hanging by the entrance and a long bar, displaying sweet treats.

"Harry, what are you doing here?" Louis finds that voice particularly familiar, but he can't put his finger on it. "Honey, you should have told us you were coming, we could've made you maple cake—" The woman's voice is cut off when she is closer. Her green eyes widen. "Louis?"

The London boy steps out from behind Harry's tall frame. "Hi, Anne."


	6. 6. Hope is a Dangerous Thing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Pre-note: I changed the last part of the previous chapter to 'I' instead of 'we'. so it's just Anne's cafe.

_"you have within you a deciding force that knows what to receive, what to turn from."_  —Rumi

* * *

[Lana Del Rey - hope is a dangerous thing for a woman like me to have - but i have it](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=rY2LUmLw_DQ)

* * *

 

She still looked the same. Her brown hair parted at the side and the length falling to her shoulders. Her face was radiating the same kindness as her eyes, and her lips stretched into their signature charming smile. "Oh my." She holds her hand over her mouth. Then, she surges forward.

Louis grunts, Anne's arms are tight around his neck. She holds him tight and pets his head.

"You haven't grown at all." She whispers as she pulls away. "It's so great to see you." Anne mumbles. Her gaze turns to Harry, the tall man standing not too far. "Why didn't you tell me Louis came to visit?"

Louis stiffens, and Harry clears his throat. "Mom, can I talk to you in the kitchen for a moment?"

Anne's face twists in confusion, before nodding slowly. She hugs Louis one last time and runs her fingers through his fringe. She points to the back of the cafe. "Just go sit in that booth and I'll bring you something to eat." She offers him a tiny smile and follows after her son.

Louis takes his time walking to the booth. He touches the texture of the bar, the little grooves in it matching with some of the polished logs visible in the ceiling. He is drawn to a bigger picture on the wall behind the counter. It's in a white frame and displays Anne, Harry, and his father. The small hand-written date in the bottom corner states it was taken two years ago. It was of the trio, in full ski gear with big smiles on their faces. Harry was the happiest, the happiest Louis' ever seen him. It was somewhat relieving to see such a joyous expression on the cold man's face. Once Louis sits in the back booth, Harry and his mother return.

Anne walks closer, holding a tray with two bagels and three steaming cups. "I'm going to open later in the day—"

"Mom," Harry frowns in disapproval, the tip of his hat crooked.

"Shush, I'm my own boss, remember?" Anne places the tray before Louis as Harry sits in the booth after taking a bagel and tucks himself in the corner with a newspaper.

Anne sits down, taking the cup with two hands. She blows on the liquid, her attention on Louis. "Now, how are you, dear?"

Louis prepares himself to reply but Harry beats him to it. "Mom," He says, this time he gives her a look.

Anne breathes out and purses her lips. "How are your parents, Louis?"

The smaller boy instinctively glances at Harry before quickly looking away. He didn't need the man to answer for him. "My mom is good. She came by the other day." He shuts his eyes. "My dad," his voice trails off, "he passed."

Anne wastes no time in taking his hand and holding it tight, giving him comfort with a gesture that often goes overlooked. "Oh, honey. What happened?"

Louis' vision goes blurry. "Druck driver." As Anne brushes her thumb over the back of his hand, for a second Louis thinks about Harry, who never asked about his dad. To Louis, that meant he didn't care—but Anne cared, she always did. 

The pressure is too much and Louis changes the subject. He tries to turn the attention away from the lone tear streaming down his cheek to Anne. "I love your cafe."

Bless Anne's soul because she lets him go. "I bought it the year after we moved here. An elderly couple decided to sell it to travel the world." The adoration in her face is obvious. "They send me postcards still." She tells a story about how she got used to the new environment and Louis listens eagerly, feeling a great weight lift off his shoulders as she rambles on and on.

Two minutes later, when she's in the middle of talking about her first experience with a wild moose, the cafe phone rings from its place on the counter. Anne excuses herself and goes to take the call in the kitchen. As Anne leaves, Louis takes a long sip of his hot chocolate. "Harry." The man hasn't said a word since scolding his mother. 

The green-eyed man glances up from the newspaper. "Hm?"

Louis cradles his arms around himself. "Did you tell your mother about me?"

"Today I did."

Louis tries to bury his suspicions. Harry's family were incredibly close to one another, he remembers that from back in London. They shared everything with each other. "You didn't tell her when I got here?"

Harry sighs softly. "No."

Jasper was a small town, no doubt. A part of Louis thought his face would be plastered on every news channel and newspaper since his arrival. All news-worthy stories are the talk of the town. "How did your mother not know about me?" He asks.

Harry folds the newspaper then clasps his hands on the table. "Liam thinks Jackson's parents are keeping their family name out of the papers to keep their reputation clean." Harry's voice lowers. "If word got out about their son... and the things he did to you, they'd lose all credibility. With credibility comes power, and they want to stay on top."

Louis' face immediately falls, the Millard's were that concerned with their image that they would completely disregard what their son did. Louis feels so vulnerable and bare, so small and insignificant. After everything he went through, not a single person in Jasper knows. It came back in a rush, his emotions piling on top of him like a million tonnes and sinking him into the water. He's drowning.

"Louis," Harry calls gently. He could practically see the thoughts running through Louis' head. "We're going to find Jackson, okay?"

At that moment, Louis sees a small sliver of sunlight shine in Harry. It was tiny, but it was there. It was warm. 

"Promise?" The London boy's voice was quiet that Harry had to strain his ears to hear him.

The officer takes a long look at the boy before him. Louis' blue eyes pooling with tears, dark bags under them, his cheeks and nose red. His shoulders curved in a way that made him appear smaller and more delicate. All bitterness Harry held for Louis is thrown out the window. "I promise."

Those two words gave Louis hope, but hope is a dangerous thing.


	7. 7. Cry Out Your Grief.

_"This fluttering love will not stay much longer in my chest. Soon it will fly like a falcon to its master..." —_ Rumi, Cry Out Your Grief

 

 

* * *

The Millards were posh. Sitting in the cold plastic chairs and hands clasped on their laps. Mr. Millard was wearing a fitting grey and blue checkered suit, his tie perfectly centred and glasses on the tip of his pointy nose. Mrs. Millard sat with her back straight and in a deep blue dress with frills on the hem of the sleeves, and a shiny silver necklace dangled from her neck.

 

The tension was thick, and Liam was left to hastily check his watch and the door of the station for Harry.

 

"Are we going to start this interview soon?" Mrs. Millard asks, voice with no emotion at all. "My husband and I have an early dinner reservation."

 

Liam clears his throat, silently begging for Harry to pop up out of thin air. "My colleague is running late, I can assure you that you will both make your reservation." He promises curtly.

 

It was Mr. Millard's turn to speak. "I hope so. We are meeting with lawyers."

 

That strikes Liam's interest and his attention is drawn from the front door. "Why are you meeting with your lawyers?"

 

The two adults stare at him, their cold brown eyes making goosebumps rise on his skin. "When this interview is proven to be completely useless, we can't have this little mishap getting to the press, can we?" Mrs. Millard smiles and it's anything but sincere.

 

"Of course." Liam agrees, only to get himself loose of their gazes. At that moment, Harry rushes into the station, snow on his hat and on his shoulders. After him, trips in Louis, equally covered in snow and with thermos and take-out container in his hands. Liam turns to the Millards, a relieved smile taking over his features. "Officer Styles just arrived."

 

Half a second later, Harry walks into Liam's cubical and greets the man and woman. "Mr. and Mrs. Millard, nice to see you." He shakes both their hands politely. Once he sits in the chair next to Liam, he dusts the last bit of snow off his uniform.

 

"Where's Louis?" Liam lost sight of the London boy.

 

"With Niall," Harry answers before taking the papers from the table, he reads off it. "Thank you for coming in on such short notice." His words are directed to the Millards.

 

"Well, we didn't really have a choice when it was a call from the police station." Mr. Millard's throat rumbles when he chuckles.

 

Liam coughs into his elbow, the air turning cold again. "Let's get to business, shall we?" He reads off his computer screen. "On Thursday, December 30th, a couple who chose to remain anonymous brought in a man after they found him knocking on their door at their house by Peektoe lake. The man they brought in had traces of gamma-hydroxybutyrate in his system and was diagnosed with a minor case of PTSD."

 

"This doesn't sound like it concerns us nor our son, Officer Payne." Mr. Millard furrows his bushy brows. His lips in a scowl.

 

Harry speaks up this time. "The man claimed to be an escaped victim from your estate by Peektoe lake. He told us he was taken on December 24th and that his kidnapper's name was Jackson. We fit the pieces together." He clasps his hands. "I myself went over to your estate by the lake and got a warrant to search the place." He takes photos from a beige folder and faces them toward the Millards. "My team and I found this in the basement."

 

It was a picture of an old dark room, completely clean, except for an unmistakable outline of where was once a bed, dresser, and desk. The next photo was of a clean white room, with a doctor office-like lounge chair and a neat cabinet of different drugs.

 

"That basement hasn't been touched in years. I'm not surprised by the suspicion it may have." Mrs. Millard says dismissively. "And that room is for our son's medical training."

 

"A whole room?"

 

"He needs practice." Mrs. Millard states.

 

"Do you know where your son was on the night of December 24th?" Liam asks.

 

Mrs. Millard shoots her husband a confused glance. "I told you over the phone that our son has been in medical school in London." Her earrings glimmering in the dull station light.

 

Liam blinks. "And the victim brought in is originally from London. We checked your son's purchases from the night before and on the list was syringes."

 

"Our son is in medical school, it's in the curriculum to buy such things." Mrs. Millard's voice lowers.

 

"If I'm not mistaken, your son is only in his second year, yes?"

 

"Correct."

 

"And has he ever done something along the lines of illegal before?"

 

"Well—"

 

Mr. Millard glares. "I'm sorry, Officer Styles but are you insinuating that our son kidnaped this man from England and brought him all the way here, to Jasper?"

 

"Look, Mr. Millard, the evidence is clear." Liam cuts in. "And we have enough of it to bring your son to court."

 

The Millards remain rigid. "What is the couple's name?" Mr. Millard asks.

 

"I'm afraid I can't disclose that information." Liam collects the papers and slips them back into the folder.

 

Mrs. Millard grabs his wrist, stopping him from collecting the last sheet. "Officer Payne, we are very well-known people. That couple may have it out for it us and are lying and wasting all of our time." Her red lips in a thin line.

 

Harry swipes up the last sheet and takes the folder, keeping it close to him. He distracts himself with a blue pen, he truly wishes he were deaf so he wouldn't have to hear Mr. and Mrs. Millard desperately try to save their guilty son. The anger is almost unstoppable as it rises to the very peak.

 

"I can confirm that the couple is absolutely innocent in this, Mrs. Millard."

 

"What about the boy, hm?" She asks. "He may be wanting to get some publicity, maybe some money."

 

"You know Mrs. Millard, the evidence is right in front of you but you are choosing to look past it. You are choosing to be blind to the fact that your son drugged and kidnapped an innocent man—

 

"Harry."

 

"—You can't see that your son is a sick bastard—"

 

"Harry," Liam booms sharply, shutting his friend up. He faces the Millards', their faces a mixture of shock and offend. "If you tell us where your son is, we can be done with this case."

 

"By done, you mean arresting him?" Mrs. Millard scoffs.

 

"Yes."

 

"Unfortunately, we have no clue about our son's whereabouts." Mr. Millard gathers his coat and helps Mrs. Millard stand. He holds her hand and huffs in anger. "Our lawyers will contact you shortly." With that, the man and woman are out of the cubical and walking toward the station door.

 

 

 

 

 

Louis is in the middle of playing tic-tac-toe with Niall when Harry appears once again, and the man looks exhausted.

 

"Did they tell you were Jackson is?" Niall asks, saving Louis the effort.

 

"No, and they're getting their lawyers involved." Harry breathes out, glancing at Louis carefully.

 

"They don't believe me." Louis comments, with a shrug, trying to mask his hurt. He'd much rather not cry in front of everyone in the station. The weight was so heavy, it was just like a waterfall. Never ending, always going and never giving him a break. How the Millards could refuse to believe that their son is a monster is beyond him. His one chance at closure, and it's gone before he could even ghost his fingertips on it.

 

"Louis," Niall tries but the London boy stands and bolts to the washroom, his face buried in his hands.

 

 

 

 

 

Louis' been crying the bathroom for a few moments. He felt so helpless and like he had lost all his senses. The tears are streaming down his face when he hears the door open.

 

"Why would I lie?" Louis asks miserably from his spot on the cold tiles. His face in between his knees as he sobs into his hands, he feels so small like one drop of water could drown him. "You believe me, don't you?"

 

He hears the person step closer, the door shut and feels their hands grasp his elbows gently. Their fingers gracing his cold skin.

 

"No," Louis squirms. He gets hysterical, sobs coming out like chokes of air. "Leave me here. I deserve to just sit here," he hiccups, "and just—" Die.

 

It's the truth, all chances of Louis gaining any part of himself was ripped away. He felt like he wanted to die when he was with Jackson, now Louis feels like death isn't enough, he needs to be completely erased and forgotten. He feels like that already. His thoughts were so poisonous.

 

"Louis," Harry's voice was like caramel, the complete opposite of the ice cold rain it was when he first arrived in Jasper. "Stand up."

 

"No," Louis whimpers when his hands are torn from his face. The mess of snot and tears now visible. He stares into Harry's green eyes, "I want to die, Harry." He confesses nothing but pain and hurt dripping from his words.

 

A part of Harry cracks, it was the shell of his utter distrust to Louis. The London boy was so enchanting and so sad, so enchantingly sad. He runs a hand through Louis' hair, carefully so. "Shh," he murmurs. He pushes aside the reason for his hatred to Louis and hides it deep in the corner of his brain. He tries to forget what Louis did to him, and he almost has but it will always be there—reminding him that the world is so unfair. So beautiful and so unfair.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> not fully satisfied with this but hey, it needed to be written. Hope u all liked it Xx
> 
> Pls tell me your thoughts about this chapter !!


	8. 8. Fringe.

_"You wreck my shop and my house and now my heart, but_  
_how can I run from what_  
_gives me life?"—_ Rumi, Fringe

* * *

Louis wakes up with a pounding headache, probably from all his crying. He's lying on his bed in his motel room, buried in blankets when he curls in deeper. The first thing that pops up into his mind is how hungry he is. His half-awake state glues him to his bed but he gets up the use the washroom. As he's washing his hands, he gets another look at himself in the mirror. Louis doesn't see the bright boy he used to, now all he sees his miserable, lonely, and sickly boy. It isn't long until he starts crying again—and Louis cries even more at the fact that he can't stop crying. It was a never-ending cycle, throwing him in a loop that leaves him feeling alone and exhausted.

The moment he somewhat regains composure, he hears a knock at his door. He rushes to dry his hands and face before leaving the bathroom. He makes his way to the door as the knocking continues. Louis checks through the green curtains and sees a woman standing outside his door. He carefully unlatches the bolts and opens the door slightly. "Hello." He greets quietly, squinting from the bright white of the snow outside.

"Hi, that tall officer told me to give this to you." The woman has bright red hair in a frizzy mess hidden under a beanie and freckles scattered across her face. She hands Louis a small folded paper and smiles. "He left a couple of hours ago."

"Thank you." Louis takes the paper and is about to close the door when he asks, "who are you?" When he's tired, he's blunt.

The woman grins. "I'm Charlie, I work here at the motel."

"Oh," Louis blinks. He opens the door wider, and the cool air gives him shivers. "I'm Louis." He shakes her gloves hand. "Did Harry say anything else when he gave you this note?"

Charlie shakes her head. "No, just handed the note and said to give it to room 9 at 11:00."

Louis nods slowly, glancing at the neatly folded paper between his fingers. "Thank you, Charlie." With that, he shuts his door and locks it and on his way to his bed, Louis turns the heat up and cuddles into his blankets again. He switches on the lamp on the nightstand and unfolds the paper.

_Dear Louis,_  
_I went to go run an errand, call me when you get this ***-***-****_  
_— H_

Louis' heart warms at the change in Harry. It was the kind of change he didn't mind, and it made a little bit of the hurt go away. Like a nice breath of fresh air after being held underwater—he knew the hands that were holding him under water and they belonged to the Millards. The tears prickle in his eyes once again, and Louis finds it impossible how he still has tears to shed. He takes a long sip from the water bottle on the bedside table before trying to dial Harry's number. To Louis' luck, the landline in his room doesn't work, meaning he's going to have to go to the motel office and use their phone to call Harry.

A part of him debates if he should just wait for Harry's return. No doubt would Harry get pissed at him for not calling, and he was just starting to warm up to Louis. The London boy decides he'd rather be freezing his toes off than have Harry ignore him like he once did. After all, Harry's bitterness was worse than the winter winds. Without hesitance, Louis slips on his jacket and boots before leaving his room.

The weather outside is not as bad as Louis thought, though he could use some mittens and a hat. The white snow makes him squint his eyes and the chilly wind brushes along his rosy cheeks. The parking lot of the motel is almost vacant, except for one lone tow truck at the very end of the motel strip and a sleek black car at not too far from his door. Louis averts his gaze to his destination and listens to the birds sing and the whistling winds, pulling his coat tighter around his body and once he's at the motel office, he yanks the door open.

It's a small room. Decorated with little pine cone and beaver souvenirs and picture frames of the surrounding area. A few chairs pushed into the corner and a tiny table with brochures and flyers. But the office is empty, so Louis waits patiently, he didn't want to go behind the desk and use the phone without permission. He takes some of the complimentary hot chocolate and sips on it.

Seconds soon turn into minutes and Louis thinks it's been almost ten minutes since he arrived. He sets down his foam cup and reads over Harry's note. He finds comfort in the fact that Harry gave enough thought to even leave him a note—it probably wasn't much thought but thought nonetheless.

Louis lets out a small sigh and sits in one of the chairs. He must've read over the note nine times when he hears the door creak open, he hopes it's an employee.

"What are you doing out of bed?"

Louis looks up from the note and blinks in disbelief. "My phone wasn't working."

"Are you trying to call your mom?" The green-eyed man inquires with a quirk in his brow.

The London boy shakes his head. "No. Harry, you told me to call you." He stands from the chair.

"Who told you that?" The tall officer frowns, his hand tightening around the large brown paper bag. When he was getting out of his truck he saw a familiar blue jacket in the office through the opened blinds. He just picked up some breakfast for Louis from his mother's cafe, an English muffin, a small tin of peanut butter and a cinnamon bun.

"You left me a note, Harry." Louis takes it out of his pocket and waves it in the officer's face. "You told me to call you when I got the note," Louis explains.

Harry snatches the paper from Louis' hands, nearly startling the boy. He reads it over, the furrow in his brow deepening. "I didn't write this, and that's not my number." He turns his full attention to the small London boy and grabs Louis by his shoulders. "Who gave this to you?" He questions.

"I—I," Louis is speechless, his mind drawing a blank yet flooding with thoughts and explanations but none of them make any sense.

"Louis," Harry leans in close, shaking Louis to break his dead stare. "Who gave you this note?" The impatience is clear in his tone.

"C—Charlie," Louis' breaths are ragged. "She said she worked here."

Harry releases Louis and runs his free hand through his hair. "No one by that name works here, Louis." He stresses. "My mom's friend owns the motel and it's only run by family."

Louis averts his eyes to his shoes, he truly doesn't know how to react.

"What did she look like?" Harry's deep voice rumbles.

Louis blinks rapidly because he thinks if he cries once more today, he's going to pass out. "Red hair, freckles, brown eyes." Louis tries to remember how Charlie looked through his pounding headache.

"How tall was she?"

"I—," Louis' breathing goes unsteady. "I d—don't know."

"Jesus." Harry rubs his eyes, then takes notice of Louis' rapid breathing and grabs the boy's hands when he sees how tight the fists are. He uncurls Louis' fingers and rubs the crescent imprints, one of the indents bleeding the slightest. "Don't do that," he demands gently. He is torn between going out searching for whoever deceived Louis and tucking the London boy away from the world. Instead, he lets Louis curl under his jacket and leads the fragile boy out of the office. He needed to get Louis comfortable before asking any questions. Harry always had a bad habit of not thinking things through, but he thought he grew out of it—maybe it's just coming back. After all, not all things stay gone forever. There's always a small, unnoticeable trace left behind.

Harry's steps are slow as he leads Louis back to his room, the boy's face cradled in his chest as he has a protective arm around Louis' shoulders. Upon reaching Louis' room, Harry slips the key out of Louis' pocket but finds the door already open.

A cold chill flows through his veins and his teeth clench. "Louis, get behind me."

Turns out Louis is more conscious than Harry thought because he wastes no time in stepping behind Harry's tall, broad frame. Louis squeezes the material of Harry's jacket in both his hands, trying to fight the urge to whimper. He bites his lips so hard he tastes blood.

Harry slowly pushes open the door, gripping his gun in its open holster with his senses on high alert. As the door swings open, creaking and groaning, it reveals an empty room. Harry breathes out and observes the area, the lamp left on and the bathroom door left wide open, no trace of anyone other than Louis. He lets out a sigh of relief and steps in. His eyes catch on a small black object lying among the yellow and green bed sheets. He knows better than to pick it up, but he needs to know what it is. More importantly, who it belongs to.

"Louis," he steps aside and allows the boy to see the object. "Is that yours?" Harry gestures to the cellphone, laying there among the sheets.

Louis' facial expression only confirms his suspicions. And the boy falls to his knees, face utterly frozen in fear. Harry tries to pick Louis off the ground but it's no use, the boy is so weak and completely unstable.

"He was here."

Harry already knew who Louis was referring to.

"He was here." Louis repeats. "He was here." His words like a broken record. "He was here."

"C'mere," Harry says as quietly as possible, he tucks his hands under Louis' armpits and lifts the boy, but his legs remain limp. Harry has no other option than to carry Louis because he isn't letting him stay in the motel any longer. "You never have to go back in there." He promises.

"He was here." Louis voice wavers.

"You're going to stay with me, okay?" Harry walks carefully through the snow. He struggles to open the passenger door but manages after a few failed attempts. He sits Louis in the seat and gently pries Louis off him, and takes a long look at the boy. His eyes were glazed over and mouth parted, lips dry and bleeding. His hands immediately turn into fists once Harry takes away his jacket, but he quickly regrets his decision. "Don't hurt yourself." Harry tugs off his jacket and places it on Louis' lap, the latter's hands clenching it once more and saving the palms of his hands from getting any more damaged. Louis was such a delicate soul, a sad soul, and a pure soul. "Oh, Blue."

Those four letters bring Louis out of his trance for a split second. Rush in the memories of that same nickname Harry used back in London when they were young and innocent. That one word from Harry's lips bringing back a warmth that is short-lived but nonetheless chips a small part of Louis' frozen body. "Harry."

"Blue," Harry whispers, running his fingers through Louis' fringe, the lovely fringe that was one of the very first things he liked about Louis. Just as past Louis comes into his mind, the tiny, sassy, loud boy who loved to stay out late and play football and drag Harry out in the middle of the night to stargaze—on its tail is the last string of hatred Harry holds for Louis, and it snaps. Leaving nothing but freedom for Harry's mind and his heart.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hehe pls tell me what u think :^)


	9. 9. Faithfully.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I seemed to forget this is a SLOW BURN fic. Pardon me. Here comes angst and stupid heart touchy things. Have fun ',:^)  
> p.s. I can promise u I had a totally different way I wanted the last chapter to go that was a slow burn way but I had this flow where I just wrote and wrote and it turned out to be fluff :^/ I'm so sorry for no angst but I will make up for it i promise !! Re-read the last chapter because that's all the fluff ur going to see in a long time (maybe not long but a while) — jas

Two strangers learn  
To fall in love again  
I get the joy  
Of rediscovering you —  _Journey, Faithfully_

* * *

 

If there's one thing Louis' learned from his stay in Jasper, is that the cold always found its way to your bones. He could bury himself in blankets, soft cashmere sweaters and sit before a large roaring fire and it wouldn't be long until the cold came nibbling at his toes. It was the same with his memories with Jackson and his parents.

His mind has been wavering between consciousness and autopilot. He's sat on a bed in a guest room of Harry's house. The sheets were thick and warm, shielding him from the low temperature of the town. He traces shapes on the blankets, drawing mindlessly. Moments later, he can faintly hear the door opening and the creak of the floorboards.

"Louis, I brought you some oatmeal." It was Harry, holding a small tray and a bottle of water.

Louis only curled further into the bed. He just wanted to be alone, and he was too emotional to see that isolation was the worst thing he could do to himself. He sniffles and watches like a hawk as Harry sets down the tray on the nightstand and takes a seat on the bed, right by Louis' feet.

"Listen, I don't want to probe but I feel like you shouldn't be this quiet." Harry decides not to mention the fact he just got off the phone with Dr. Bloom who requested another appointment with Louis and even took it a step further to suggest a therapist. "Liam wants to talk to you tomorrow, I told him I'd ask you first."

Harry is met with silence, and he tries not to show anything other than concern. This is about Louis and Louis alone.

"Louis, you know you can talk to me." Harry presses gently. "C'mon..."

The darling nickname, Blue, was on the tip of his tongue.

Louis' next words surprise Harry. "Why do you care?" His tone carries such hurt and anger, Harry feels like a target.

"Blue—"

"Don't call me that."

Harry doesn't know where this change in attitude is coming from. Harry knows Louis loved being called Blue, mostly because only Harry called him it but he's afraid he's dead wrong this time.

"Just go away." Louis looks at Harry dead in the eye, his mouth quirked into a scowl. "You treated me horribly when I got here. Just do me a favour and continue."

That made Harry realize the truth. He wasn't a close friend of Louis—not enough so that he could hold him like one. Of course, he and Louis used to be close, but sometimes things are just never the same. He understands now and sees his mistakes—his stupid, stupid mistakes. He was so foolish to think of Louis as anything other than an ex, because that's who they were to each other, ex's.

A part of Harry was simply trying to make up for how he treated Louis in the past few days. But, that part of him grabbed the wheel and took things into a different direction. The time span of two days and Harry was considering that maybe the Louis he remembers is still in there, just hiding because he's scared and alone. Now, Harry knows that's not true. That past Louis is gone and so is past Harry—and that's okay because Harry and Louis were never meant to last anyway. He's nearly convinced himself of such.

It was a rollercoaster. Going from one extreme to another, from hatred to compassion. It was all too much and Harry is lucky Louis put a stop to it before things got out of control. God knows how long Harry's been single. And that seems like a logical explanation, Louis needed comfort, Harry needed company, Harry recognized Louis as someone he once knew and there were no boundaries.

And as Harry walks out of his guest bedroom that night, he shuts the door and once again, builds up his walls, as high as the clouds this time. He shielded himself from his true feelings because somethings are just not meant to be true and he and Louis were a prime example.

 

 

Hours later, Harry returns with a first aid kit. Louis is half asleep with he feels hands moving around his cocoon. He instinctively reaches for the person, his sleepy state begging for comfort.

Harry watches in the dim light of the lamp as the man who broke his fragile teenage heart reach for him in the same way Harry did all those years ago. He shakes the memories from his head because it's the only right thing to do. He carefully cleans Louis' cuts from his nails on the boy's palms, taking his time to count each one, they looked so red and angry on such delicate skin. It was a crime. After he wrapped the London boy's hands, he gently tucked him in again. He looks at Louis' eyelashes as they ghost his cheekbones. It was uncontrollable how Harry reached out and brushed his fingertips along Louis' nose, the same nose he used to pepper small kisses on. In a trance, Harry leans forward, lips millimeters from Louis', "why don't you want me?" His words as soft as clouds. "Why do you hate me, Blue?" His fingers trace through Louis' fringe. "I'm sorry, Blue." For the first time in years, Harry feels unwilling tears prickle in his eyes. "I'm sorry for everything, I only wish you were too."

He just wanted Louis to be the same Louis he knew. He wanted the Louis from before the man broke him, tore him to pieces, and shattered his world. But here he was, feeling unexplainable emotions for a man who destroyed him. It was so cruel.

 

 

The next morning is tense, to say anything. Louis doesn't leave his bed when he sees the sun rise from behind the mountains, and Harry comes once with breakfast and doesn't say a word. Louis didn't eat a bite of it and doesn't know how long he sits in his cocoon of blankets and sorrow until a loud clap of thunder pulls him from his trap of a mind. He buries his face into his current favourite blanket, a fuzzy yellow one with small clouds on it. 

Not once did he think of the good in the world, he only thought of Jackson. Seeing his phone lying on the bedspread was enough to trigger him into a whirlpool of uneasiness. The smallest part of him wanted to call out for Harry, but his mind immediately took away his voice. It was poison, a poison he couldn't escape from.

It was like the weather changed in the span of an hour, a sunny morning turned into a gloomy rainy day. To Louis' luck, the power goes out.

He pulls himself out of bed and feels the blood rush to his feet. They feel tingly and he holds onto the bed for support, it's been so long since he's stood. Just as he's a few feet from the door before it swings open and a bright light shines in his eyes.

"Hey," it's Liam of all people. "Harry just went outside to check the fuse box." He offers Louis an arm. "Let's go downstairs, it's warmer and there are candles there."

Without a word, Louis drags his favourite blanket off the bed and follows Liam down the stairs of Harry's tiny house. There were only two bedrooms, one was the guest and the other was the master bedroom where Harry slept. A bathroom at the end of the hall and picture frames hung up on the wall leading down to the first floor. The living room wasn't something Louis got a good look at when he first arrived, now seeing it in the dim glow of the candles wasn't better. He could faintly see the green and grey curtains and the faint colour of red of the fireplace bricks surrounding the dying fire.

"Sit here." Liam leads Louis to a small fluffy green couch before tending to the fire. He places the flashlight on the table and grabs the thin metal stick. "So," He clears his throat, "How are you?"

The sound of Liam's strained voice only made Louis want to return to his cocoon of blankets upstairs. He merely tugs his favourite blanket over his head and holds a pillow close to his chest.

When Liam is met with silence, he coughs into his hand. "The power doesn't go out frequently, but when it does, it lasts a while." He tries to fill the silence. Once Liam deems the fire is as good as it is going to get, he stands to his full height. "Did Harry tell you about your appointment tomorrow?"

Liam wasn't really expecting a reply and chooses to ignore the fact that Harry, who once held such distaste for Louis, offered the latter shelter in his home.

"You have an appointment with Dr. Bloom tomorrow morning and an appointment with Dr. Constantine in the afternoon," Liam explains briefly. "He's a therapist." Liam finishes and is distracted by the sound of the front door opening and slamming shut to notice Louis' tense shoulders.

Harry walks in wearing a dripping raincoat and holding a heavy flashlight. It only takes the shine from the candles to see the dark bags under his eyes. "Power is completely out, I have to go see if the generators are still working." He slips off his wet coat and hangs it on the hook. "There's some more firewood by the backdoor." He tells Liam.

"You got me a therapist?" It's so strange to hear Louis' voice after so long. 

Harry looks at Louis, dead in eyes with an even more lifeless expression. A loud clap of thunder rattles the tiny house and Harry watches Louis jump but keeps his hands to himself. "You need one."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this is one of my fave stories to write and I will never get over the opportunity of writing for such an amazing prompt. please tell me your thoughts !!


	10. 10. Cup.

_"The cup wants to be lifted_  
_and used, not broken, but carried_  
carefully to the next." — Rumi, Cup  


* * *

 

Louis falls asleep that night on the phone with his mother. She soothes him into a peaceful slumber with her low humming, just as she did when he was just a small baby in her arms. In a twisted way, Louis couldn't decide what he wanted. A large part of him wanted to be left alone, to cry and weep deep in a cave on an island in the middle of the Pacific Ocean. He just wanted to suffer alone, to not embarrass himself anymore. And, a small, fraction of him wanted to be cradled and rocked like a baby. He wanted to be comforted, he wanted to be in the arms of someone warm and soft. In a way, that small part of him was the only thing keeping him alive. Just a small hint of hope, of need of love.

Louis has never dreamt anything too frightening. But as he shut his eyes, he lets go of all restraints and is locked up in his dark mind. That night, he dreams of Jackson, of the horrible things he said to Louis, and of what he did to Louis. It was a trainwreck. Louis tried to suppress his memories but it only piled up and created a jumble of his weaknesses and worst nightmares.

It isn't a surprise when Louis wakes up at four in the morning drenched in sweat and tears. He lies awake in bed, staring out the window at the white snow falling from the sky, sticking to the wet ground and melting into the puddles from the previous storm. He wished he could do that, fall, and disappear.

 

 

Louis used to love meeting new people. He loved the interaction with new personalities. Now, to introduce himself was a chore. He hated it. His mind only seemed to focus on the negatives of everything. He sits on a soft brown couch, with his hands clasped in his lap. He fiddles with a loose hem of his pants, they were an old pair of Harry's he found on the bathroom counter after his shower. The man hadn't said a word to Louis from breakfast to walking Louis into Dr. Constantine's office. It was a small one, but cozy. A warmth welcoming Louis from the bitter Canadian air and the soft sound of the sizzling fireplace making Louis feel a little more comfortable.

"Hello, Louis. I'm Dr. Constantine." The man had thin glasses on the tip of his pointy nose. His eyes were light hazel, almost yellow. He had smile lines visible on his cheeks, and a variety of sizes of freckles over his cheeks. He looked to be in his late-thirties. He offers Louis a gentle smile. "I've been told of what happened to you—"

"And what was it?" Louis can't help the attitude. From the frustration with Harry and his own inner battles, he was slowly growing tired of people talking about him.

"I was going to ask you that." Dr. Constantine says curtly. "You see, my way of therapy is in four simple steps. First is acceptance, going over what my patient went through and coming to terms that it happened and that it is in the past and nothing can change it. I call the second step burrowing. This is when we uncover feelings and how that situation has affected you and the ones around you. Digging deep and uncovering wounds is the only way to heal. Third is dawning. This is when I prepare my patient for growing from the trauma. It's the most crucial part of my process because it decides my patient's mindset." Dr. Constantine makes big actions with his hands. "Can you guess what the final step is?"

"Letting go?" Louis mutters, unimpressed. He felt like a guinea pig. 

"Not quite," Dr. Constantine smiles. "The final step is whatever you want it to be. Whether you want to 'let go'," he uses air quotations, "or if you want to hold on. In a sense that you are not ready to release your mind and break free from your past. If you chose to not let go, we are going to start from the beginning."

Louis doesn't speak, only looks back down at his hands. They were dry, the cold air wasn't kind, and his wounds were taking more time to heal than he thought. Since the bandages were gone, he had to be careful of what he touches.

"Louis, are you ready to start?" Dr. Constantine asks politely. "Tell me everything."

 

 

"So, what did he tell you?"

"Not much, but I can’t disclose anything even if I wanted to.” Dr. Constantine answers, looking over his page that was usually filled with notes after a session but with Louis, it was almost completely blank. "Though, because I need to help with this case, I believe Louis is barricading himself. He's not letting himself see the full picture, instead, he's zeroing on a small fraction." Dr. Constantine reveals with a sad frown. "He's hiding. There's more that happened when he was kidnapped, he just doesn't want to remember."

"Why not?"

Dr. Constantine looks up, his eyes dropping at the corners with sorrow and age. "He's scared." He says, as simple as ever. "He faced major trauma and definitely has PTSD. He's detaching himself from people, his presence just feels so numb. Has he ever told you anything that sparked an unpleasant thought?"

"What do you mean?"

Dr. Constantine breathes through his nose. "Has Louis ever told he wanted to commit suicide?" He asks cautiously.

Harry is immediately bombarded by Louis' soft voice telling him something so dreadful. His heart sinks to the floor and to Earth's core. "Um, yeah." He nods once. "He has."

Dr. Constantine sighs, placing a comforting hand on Harry's shoulder. "You care about him, right?"

Without a beat, Harry nods.

"I will tell you something, but you have to promise not to tell Louis." Dr. Constantine demands sharply. "It's too early for this."

"Okay." Harry braces himself.

 

 

It's been almost fifteen minutes since Louis was escorted out of Dr. Constantine's office. He's been twiddling his thumbs since then. Louis is curled in a small ball in the waiting room when Harry remerges from Dr. Constantine's office. The man has a red nose and visible tear streaks on the apples of his cheeks. Louis has half a mind when he stands to his full height and steps toward Harry. The man was so tall, towering over Louis. He was wearing a thick coat and an orange scarf, with a blue hat covering his brown curls.

"What did he tell you?" A spark of interest was hard to fight when Louis sees Harry's lame attempt of hiding the fact he was crying.

"Nothing," Harry waves off dismissively. "It was nothing." He sniffles when he remembers Dr. Constantine's voice, his words chipped at Harry's broken heart. The words only echoed in his mind.

"Harry," Louis is about to try to convince Harry to talk to him but the bell above the door sounds and he turns. His lips part when he sees the man who just walked in. "Micheal?" The man was bundled in a red lumberjack coat with a pair of earmuffs atop his blond hair.

"Mr. Loughty." Dr. Constantine's accent rings out from where he was standing by the frame of his door. "You're just on time for your session. Come on in."

Louis watches in bewilderment as Micheal offers him a nervous smile before stepping into Dr. Constantine's office. He stands there until Harry clears his throat, the latter seemed to get a hold of himself, unlike Louis.


	11. 11. Just a Little Bit of Your Heart.

_Just a little bit of your heart,_  
 _Just a little bit is all I'm asking for_  — Harry Styles, Just a Little Bit of Your Heart

* * *

 

Everything happens for a reason—at least that was what Louis believed. Before all this, before everything with Jackson and meeting his ex-high school sweetheart.

People always said that the world worked in mysterious ways, they never said how cruel those ways were. This is what goes through Louis' mind as he sits in Harry's dining room, eating dinner which consisted of chicken, peas, and rice.

"Who was that guy at the therapist's?" Harry's voice breaks the silence. "You said his name."

Louis' fork freezes, halfway to his mouth. He had no real reason to lie to Harry, but he didn't want to tell him the truth. His eyes lower to Harry's badge, 'H. Styles' and that simple glance reminds him of how lost he feels. He wishes he could turn back time, spend a little longer being a kid, loose of all this dread and heartache. He wishes he could spend more time with his family, with Harry when they were young, innocent.

Harry takes his silence in stride, Dr. Constantine warned him about how cloudly Louis' mind would be in the next few days. Just until he got a hold of himself again. It was heavy on Harry's back, he's trying to remain professional and comforting—which he isn't doing a very good job at—but his feelings keep driving him in the wrong direction. The number of unspoken words floating in his head was taking away his sense of gravity, his feet weren't on the floor anymore.

"His name is Micheal," Louis whispers, looking down at his hands. "I met him a few days ago at the motel."

Harry takes in the words from Louis' lips. He's both frustrated and the slightest bit disappointed. "Are you serious?"

"Why?" Louis asks, his tone rising. His blue eyes are staring Harry down, glaring and daring him to say something.

Harry scoffs lightly. It was back at the start again, every conversation with Louis is bound to end in tears and heartache. "You haven't met him other than that first time, right?" When Harry's question is met with nothing but silence causing pressure builds on his chest. "You haven't met him again, right?" His tone demands an answer.

Louis drops his fork, his appetite gone. "No," he stands slowly from his chair, the wooden legs scraping along the floor. "I was supposed to meet him today."

Harry chokes on his food before taking a long sip of water. His mouth is quirked in a grimace when he looks up at the boy. "Louis," Harry tries to keep his emotions in place but it's no use. "You can't go out trusting people like that." He shakes his head, not believing how naive Louis could be. "You... I," He laughs, it's bitter and offends Louis. "You are so stupid."

Louis steps back, blinking rapidly because he didn't want to cry. Harry was cold, but he wasn't rude—until now. Those same words said in a voice that he used to admire repeats in his mind. Echoing off the walls of his skull and forcing him to listen to it again and again.

"Do you realize what could happen to you if you meet this guy? This stranger!" Harry gawps.

"You don't know a thing about him," Louis defends, losing the battle with his tears as they spill down his red cheeks.

"Neither do you." Harry shoots back. "You know zero about this guy and you were going to meet him." Harry bellows. "You're a damn fool, Louis."

"If this is you showing how much you care about me," Louis points a finger, "you're doing a horrible job at it." A stubborn whimper falls from his lips and Louis immediately runs off, wanting nothing but to be alone.

"Do you think you're the only one with baggage?" Harry lets loose, standing from his chair and following Louis to the base of the stairs, his heavy footsteps thundering. The London boy is already halfway up but Harry remains at the base with his hands clenched by his sides. "I haven't forgotten what you did to me."

"Baggage!" Louis crows, his blue eyes blazing with fury, he takes a step down and Harry could almost feel the anger radiating off his body. "You call me being kidnapped, drugged and shipped off to another country, baggage?"

"I can never talk to you without this happening," Harry bursts. "I'm trying to be nice to you, I'm trying so hard."

"You," Louis seethes, "are trying?" He echos in disbelief.

"I am, Louis. Who the hell do you think wrapped up your hands, hm? And when you completely blanked out at the motel that day, who carried you to bed because you couldn't walk? It sure as hell wasn't anyone else but me. Did I ever get thanks, no." Harry blinks away his tears but it's futile. Louis is once again stunned to see Harry so vulnerable. "It's so hard for me to see you as anyone other than the person who abandoned me." Harry pulls at his hair, his mind going into overdrive. "Yet here you are, being so ignorant." He fumes.

Louis' brain is overworked, he could barely think. The fling of going from one extreme to another gave him a headache.

"Has it ever crossed your mind that maybe, I don't hate you," Harry looks up at Louis with watery green eyes. "I can't always be nice to you, after what you put me through, but I'm trying. Honestly, I can't help but feel like it's true what people say; after all, we were so high and everything that goes up must come down."

Louis doesn't want to remember what happened all those years ago, but the look of despair on Harry's features is enough for his knees to buckle. "I didn't mean to hurt you," he's trying desperately to collect Harry with one piece of ribbon. To heal the man.

Harry can't take it anymore, and slides down the wall, hiding his face in his hands and Louis can hear him crying over the sound of his own heart-shattering. The London boy steps down, his feet carefully making their way to Harry.

They used to be so close before, it's uneasy to think of how far they were now. But time is supposed to heal—that wasn't the case for Harry. If Louis had the choice, he'd go back in time and change what he did.

"Please," Harry rocks back and forth, his voice muffled in the crook of his arm. "Just go." He pleads.

Louis can't form any coherent thoughts in his head, he kneels down by Harry's side and places a delicate hand on the whimpering man. "Harry,"

"Just go," He cries, shifting away from Louis' touch as if he'd been burned. "Leave, just like you always do." Harry glares, and Louis' never seen such hatred, such firey damage in those green eyes. "Just like you've always done."

Louis obeys without a word, abandoning the tension and the weeping man at the bottom of their stairs. He couldn't say sorry enough, the damage was done and Harry's been bottling it up for four years. Louis never expected to meet Harry again, not under these circumstances either. Louis didn't plan on meeting Harry again. He didn't want to meet Harry again, not to look into those wide eyes and drown in guilt.

Louis just wanted a little bit of warmth, just a small glow to melt at the coldness of these past few days. He just wanted a little bit, the smallest bit of Harry's comfort, of Harry's familiar affection, just a little bit of his heart. But, it was too out of reach, just like happiness and just like closure. Everything was so screwed up, and Louis was lost in it. And he found solace in the fact that Harry was lost too—all they had to do was find each other in their mess. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> not sure if i'm satisfied with this chapter . tell me your thoughts pls :^)


	12. 12. Blue On Blue.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> inspired by James Blunt's "Blue On Blue".  
> warning: major asshole harry in this chapter.

_I want you more_  
_Than I ever wanted_  
_Than I ever needed  
_ _Anyone I ever knew —_ [James Blunt - Blue On Blue](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=MQsdrs78MSo)

* * *

It's a Monday afternoon when Harry is patiently sitting in the waiting room of the local therapist office. He's bundled tightly in his parka and scarf, flipping through a novel he brought from home. He had the day off and brought Louis to his appointment and it's been almost an hour since the boy disappeared behind the shut door. He sighs softly and flips the page, just as the bell by the door dings.

He glances up from the pages and stiffens in his seat. Standing in a long dark brown trench coat with a silk scarf tied around her neck was Mrs. Millard. She was hunched over the receptionist's desk and talking in a hushed voice. Harry leans closer and only gets the last bit of her words.

"—here for him."

"Mr. Constantine is with a client right now, he's booked for the day."

Mrs. Millard huffs through her nose and stands straight again. She nods once and hands the receptionist a small envelope. As she steps away from the desk, she catches Harry's curious eyes. All colour drains from her face before she bolts out of the office. Harry is up in a second, slamming his book shut and following after her.

Luckily it's an early Monday morning and the streets are clear. When Harry swings the glass door open, he sees her about to cross the street but lunges forward and grasps her wrist.

Mrs. Millard turns with a scowl. "Officer Styles." She tries to walk away again but Harry pulls her away from the curb. "May I help you?" She asks with spite.

"What are you doing here?" Harry quirks his brow, he scans her attire. As always, dressed in the most luxurious clothing. "Shouldn't you be looking for your son?" He gets right to the point.

For a moment, Mrs. Millard's face falls before she tilts her head. "Did he tell you?" She asks, eyes hidden behind a pair of expensive sunglasses which were unfit for the winter weather.

Harry frowns. "Who?"

"Quinn."

Harry raises both his eyebrows. "What are you talking about?"

"Did Quinn Constantine tell you?" Mrs. Millard inquires with a calm heat in her voice.

Harry loosens his grip on her wrist, and steps back, the snow crushing under his boots. Dr. Constantine's words repeat in his head and he feels awfully vulnerable under her hawk-like gaze. The cold wind prickles at his cheeks and he licks his lips in thought. 

"I assume he did then." She straightens her posture and clasps her hands. She breathes out through her nose, her breath coming out in a white puff. "Are you going to arrest me?"

 

 

"Louis," the boy looks up, "Are you here alone?"

The London boy bites his lip, glancing around. He's been standing in the middle of the waiting room for about ten minutes, he only assumes Harry went to get coffee or something but the man was nowhere to be seen. "I guess I am." He feels defenseless without Harry, but at the same time, he feels like he could finally breathe.

"Oh," Micheal nods once. "I came here for my appointment but I think I'll skip this one."

Louis looks up with wide blue eyes. "That's probably not a good idea." He suggests lightly.

Micheal laughs, his brown eyes crinkling at the corners. "I'll be fine. I'd rather spend my day with you instead."

Louis clears his throat and rolls on the balls of his feet. "I don't know." He twiddles his thumbs. It was strange seeing Micheal again, but Louis needed to know why Micheal was at the therapist, to begin with.

"C'mon, we never got to do that cafe date."

Louis sighs and looks away from Micheal's warm brown eyes in thought. He glances around the nearly empty room and slowly smiles up at the tall man. He brushes off Harry's words and goes with his instincts. After all, if Harry wanted to keep him safe, he wouldn't have ditched him at the therapists.

 

 

Louis and Micheal talk for what feels like hours. They sit in a small booth by the window in the warm Metroally Cafe. Louis talks about himself mostly, his life back in London and his family—he skips over Jackson. Micheal talks about his life, his studies and how he currently works as a mechanic at the local car garage. Louis munches on his lemon muffin and sips his hot chocolate as he listens to Micheal's soothing low voice.

Halfway through Micheal's story about his summer vacation back in 2011, Louis' mind trails onto Harry, he felt abandoned by the man. Then, he thinks about the emotional explosion from two days prior. His heart drops when he remembers how destroyed Harry looked, red eyes and tear-stained cheeks. His words repeat in his head, Louis didn't mean to break Harry as he did. But he did. He hears Micheal say something about having to leave. As Micheal flips open his wallet, Louis' eyes fall onto a small photograph of a man. His eyes were blue, his hair was a sandy brown and he had soft pink lips. Tiny freckles scattered across his rosy cheeks.

"Who is that?" Louis asks, gesturing to the small picture.

Micheal looks down, his face lights up. "That's my husband." His entire face is overcome with fond.

That catches Louis off guard. "I had no idea you're married." Louis' eyes are wide and mouth slightly parted. He glances down at the photograph again and hums. "He looks familiar."

Micheal smiles softly, his pearly white teeth making an appearance. "I was married." He clarifies. "You sort of look like him." His smile falls before a content expression takes over. "Same hair, same eyes."

It takes Louis a few moments to process the new information. He would have never guessed a man as young as Micheal to already be married, but now, Louis sees a thin silver ring on his finger. He cautiously speaks, "didn't work out?"

"The opposite actually." Micheal's voice cracks, but he recovers with a light chuckle. "Everything was as perfect as it could be. I'll tell you about it someday."

Louis knows his boundaries and respects Micheal's. He nods once and smiles at the familiar woman as she makes her way to their table. At that moment, Louis swears that he spots the same man from his nightmares across the street. His eyes go unfocused as he wavers between conscious and unconscious, he remembers that built frame and shoulder-length blond hair. Louis' entire body seizes up, his hands tremble, and his lips quiver. His brain goes cloudy as Harry's mother finally reaches their table.

Her face becomes concerned as he rushes to pull Micheal away when the man goes to touch Louis. She shakes her head, motherly instincts shining as he slowly grasps Louis' hands. She shushes the boy softly, trying to comfort his shivering form.

"Honey," she faces Micheal who wore a deep concerning frown. "I think you should go."

"Listen, ma'm. I care about him, I won't touch him but I can't leave without knowing he's okay." Micheal follows Louis' gaze but it's locked on an empty sidewalk. He looks back at the woman and sees how Louis' erratic murmurs lower to hushed whispers. He remains seated in the booth, watching the woman take out her phone and make a hushed phone call.

 

 

The first thing Harry does is make a beeline for Louis after he walks into his mother's cafe. The boy is wrapped in a thick coat, which he recognizes as his mother's, and is rocking back and forth in the very back of the room in a booth. He sits slowly and reaches out for Louis, but the man jerks away. "Louis,"

"You left." The London boy mutters, eyes locked on his hands.

"I'm sorry." He takes Louis' hand, holding it tightly, refusing to let the man pull away. He tucks the small fragile hand under his chin. "I'm so sorry."

"You left," Louis squeaks, breaking into silent tears. It rips at Harry's heart. "And he found me."

Harry swallows the lump in his throat. "Louis,"

"Just—" Louis hiccups and yanks his hand away with such a force, it leaves Harry momentarily stunned. "Don't touch me."

Harry watches as the tears stream faster down Louis' flushed cheeks, he can't let him suffer alone and reaches for Louis again, grasping his finger. "Blue, please."

"Stop it, Harry." Louis cries harder, his lip raw from biting it so roughly. He pulls his hand further away and curls into the window. "Don't touch me."

Harry's heart falls to the pit of his stomach. Weakly, he reaches for Louis again. Giving into the magnetic force that pulls them together. Louis was his sense of gravity. "Blue."

"He said not to touch him." An unfamiliar voice steps in and a hand places itself on Harry's shoulder.

The officer immediately stands, shoving the hand away and facing the stranger. His gaze lowers to slits. "And you are?" Harry widens his stance. The man is tall, has brown eyes and a strong jaw.

"Micheal, I'm Louis' friend." The man answers. "And who are you?"

Harry almost flatters for a moment, he barely recognized the man in the dimly lit cafe. A surge of anger flows through Harry's veins. Of course, he didn't know Micheal or anything about him but his mind immediately falls into a possessive mode. As if he lost control, his mind zeros in on protecting Louis, and right now, Micheal was a threat. "Harry." The green-eyed man answers. "And,  _Micheal_ ," He spits, stepping forward. He and Micheal were almost the same height, but Harry's shoulders were slightly broader, "I don't think you're in any position to tell me what and what not to do with my boyfriend." He doesn't even process his own words.

Micheal's brows furrow and his lip quirks. "Considering your boyfriend is my friend, then yes, I am in a position to keep him safe and away from you." He steps forward as well, their noses almost brushing. 

Harry almost laughs. He wasn't going to stand here and let Micheal talk to him as if he's a danger to Louis' well-being. If anything, Harry was the only one who could protect Louis. "Are you really his friend? You've known him for a couple of days. That's not a friend, that's a glorified stranger." Harry clenches his fists at his side, he sees Micheal do the same. "And before you start giving me shit, why don't you try to comfort your so-called-friend? Because when I walked in here, you were nowhere to be seen." Harry feels his nails dig into the palms of his hands.

At that moment, Harry's mother walks in from the back. She sees the two men, chest to chest and races to push them apart. Her hair is in a messy bun and she frowns at the both of them. "Boys, what are you doing?"

Something flashes in Micheal's eyes and he takes a large step back. "You know, I'm not going to do this." He takes a deep breath and runs a hand through his hair. "At least you aren't the asshole that ditched him at the therapists."

Harry's anger turns into regret. All the heated rage is replaced with a heavy sinking weight and he wants to fall to the floor. His hands unclench and he hears Louis' crying heighten to sobs. He didn't mean to leave Louis at the therapists like that, but with one look at Louis' cherry cheeks and red-rimmed eyes, Harry excuses himself. He moves his mother's hand off his shoulder and rushes out the cafe door.

 

 

Harry doesn't know how long he's been outside, but he's on his third cigarette. The winter sky is dark blue with even darker grey clouds. Snow has piled on the toes of his boots and on his shoulders, probably also in his hair. The unforgiving chilling wind has made its way to his bones. He stands there, smoking as the same thoughts of Louis echo through his mind.

It was truly no use to fight his feeling for any longer. Harry wanted everything but to want Louis and it was all so impossible. He didn't want to revolve around Louis' presence but it was a dead-end and he had no road left. He thought the best he could do was pretend he didn't care about Louis—but Harry deeply regrets thinking that was the only option. 

After arresting Mrs. Millard and taking her to the station, Harry promised to come back for Louis. But he didn't, he was too caught up in Mrs. Millard's interview and Louis slipped his mind. Then, he gets a call from his mother about Louis going into shock, and that's enough to bring him back to his sole reason for being so devoted to the Millards case. Angry was an understatement when he realized he had left Louis at the therapists, Harry wanted to scream at himself for being so stupid. And it was worse when Louis pushed him away. The London boy had every right to push Harry away and cower when the man came forward.

Harry left him. And Jackson found him.

Harry didn't love Louis, not as he did before but he wanted him. He wanted to keep him safe, secure and warm. He just wanted Louis, he needed him. He felt so drawn to him. Like Harry had an unfulfilled prophecy of keeping Louis safe forever. Harry wanted to cry and scream in all the same breath, from both his own self-pity and from his indescribable emotions towards the man with blue eyes.

Harry truly feels like there was no way to go, there was no way to tell Louis of his strong feelings that developed in only a few short days. It was unrealistic for Harry to think that anything with Louis would go far. Louis was too emotionally drained, under too much pressure, he was too sad. But he was Harry's blue. He was always Harry's blue. It was blue on blue.

Harry makes the mistake of looking over his shoulder and into the cafe, just in time to see Micheal hug Louis—the latter did no moves to push Micheal away, not as he did to Harry.

He just wanted Louis to want him. He wanted Louis to want his comfort, he wanted Louis to want to curl into his arms and whisper his deepest thoughts. When Louis brushes his cheek on Micheal's, Harry wishes to be Micheal at that moment. 

As the door of the cafe swings open, Harry loses all restraints and drops his cigarette before grabbing Micheal by the collar of his coat, he shoves the man against the brick wall of the cafe. Blinded by jealousy, rage, regret, and guilt. His teeth are clenched and jaw locked. "I want you to stay the fuck away from him." Harry hisses, he was so angry, he had no other way to channel his emotions. "Don't talk to him, don't touch him, don't think about him."

Micheal's nostrils flare. "You don't control me. You don't control Louis." He roughly pushes Harry. "You need to mind your own business, freak."

Harry lets loose. Before he knows it, his fist makes contact with Micheal's face, sending the man stumbling back. Harry watches the man hold the left side of his face and glare daggers into Harry's soul.

Micheal massages his throbbing cheek. "You know," He spits on the ground, tasting blood, "I feel bad for Louis. Having an asshole as a boyfriend, he deserves better than you."

As Micheal walks away into the night, Harry left alone again. With an aching fist and even deeper in his own hole of self-hatred. He couldn't agree more with Micheal. Louis deserved better than him, he deserved everything but Harry. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> it's been a while since i've updated anything. i don't know how i feel about it but i hope you all enjoyed this chapter.


	13. 13. Sun.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> howdy there! sorry for the late long-awaited update.. 
> 
> anyway, if you enjoy this story, I have two other stories that are angsty and sad:
> 
> 1\. An Eternal Daze—completed,  
> "Tomorrows are eternal, just like his love for him. "
> 
> 2\. Shades of Nimble—coming soon but the prologue is posted,  
> "You love a man you've never met?"
> 
> "I love a man I don't remember."  
> OR  
> Harry is a world renown author and is currently working on a trilogy. After his traumatic accident a decade earlier that left him with severe memory loss, Harry is 36-years-old and avoids all human affection. In mid-December on a Monday afternoon, as Harry is writing the second book of his trilogy, a journalist arrives at his small house in the extremely small town of Forget. As he's being interviewed for a newspaper, Harry finds himself reopening his facade of healed stitches."
> 
> —i would love some feedback on them, thank you :^)

_Your touch, your skin, where do I begin?_  
_No words can explain, the way I'm missing you—  
_ [Sam Smith - Lay Me Down](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=HaMq2nn5ac0)

* * *

 

Harry loved his job. He loved being an enforcer of the law and going to sleep with the satisfaction that he can protect his family. Though, now he feels defenseless.

"Listen, Harry." Liam's says, startling Harry. "I need to talk to you."

"Sure." Harry closes his folder and straightens his posture. "Is it about Mrs. Millard?"

Liam purses his lips. "Well, her lawyer is coming in later in the week, along with Mr. Millard. That's not what I came to talk about." He slowly sits in the chair across from Harry's desk, folding his hands on his lap and fiddling with the hem of his blue button-up. "I'm your friend, Harry, trust me, you're one of the closest ones I have in this tiny town but I've been letting this go on for as long as I can because you're one of the best goddamn officers in this joint. But you're too close to the case." His voice goes low.

"You're taking me off the case?" Is Harry's reply, the bewilderment evident in his voice.

"Not only that." Liam pauses. "Boss thinks you need a break." Liam was putting it lightly, saying Harry was fired but not fully-fired. He still had a chance, he didn't know how big that chance was.

Three beats pass, and Liam could see the gears turning in Harry's head. "I was reported, wasn't I?"

Liam's silence was enough.

Harry gulps. It was Micheal, Harry remembers two nights ago. The rage flowing through his veins. He was possessive of Louis, of someone who wasn't his. Louis hasn't been his for years, and for Harry to act as if they were together and assault Micheal was far out of line. He only wonders why it took Micheal so long to report him.

"When can I come back?" Harry's voice cracks and he wants to take his vulnerabilities from the air and hide them in his pocket. Instead, he stands and tries to keep his pride as he unpins his badge and his name-tag placing in it Liam's awaiting palm and lays everything on his belt on the table. His gun, his radio, everything.

"When you get yourself in order, and once you do," Liam breathes, "your things, your badge will be waiting for you."

Harry leaves after that. He takes his folder and hides his face in his parka as he walks passed all his colleagues and only makes eye contact with Niall for a moment. He slouches in his truck and puts his face in his hands. Harry wants to be calm, he wants to understand where Liam was coming from but he only got angrier. That was how he's always been; impulsive, melodramatic and straight-forward. Harry hated himself for being the way he was, he wishes he could clear the slate and create a whole other person with morally weighed values and balanced life.

Harry drives home without a second look at the police station, with the manila folder in his lap. The ride home is a blur, his mind clouded with the fact he has no job at the moment.

Ten minutes later, Harry arrives home. He slowly opens his truck door to step out, the snow crushing beneath his boots. The air is fresh against his flaming cheeks, and he welcomes it with open arms. With the manila folder in his hand, he walks up to his porch steps and unlocks his door. If he were a stranger, he would've thought the house was empty. It was dead silent, Harry could only hear his own soft breaths. He doesn't bother calling out for the hidden boy and instead slips off his boots before walking to his kitchen. He takes a tall bottle of wine and a glass from the cabinet then takes a seat at the dining table.

Harry sits there in his uniform and reads over the papers in the folder while sipping on his wine.

 

 

It's almost eleven in the morning when Louis patters down the stairs. He appears at the doorway, all beady-eyed and hair a mess. His blue eyes widen when he sees Harry, still in his uniform, sitting at the dining table.

"Good morning." Harry clears his throat, gaze falling on Louis' short figure in his plaid pants and white cotton long sleeve. "Are you hungry?"

Louis simply nods his head, steadily and cautiously as if Harry will lunge at him. He hasn't seen him properly for two days. After the incident, Harry's mother came and helped Louis to bed. And, Harry stood outside his bedroom door, only getting a glimpse of his form on the bed wrapped in covers. Harry went to work the day after, and the day after that. He's been a coward, not wanting to address what's eating him alive and here he was, feeling empty with the added bonus of the fact that he has no job to go to tomorrow.

Harry stands, his knees cracking and steps to the kitchen. He takes Louis' breakfast from off the counter and rips off the plastic wrap. He pops it into the microwave and awkwardly leans against the counter, Louis is still standing at the doorway.

"How are you feeling?" Harry asks, trying to break the tension. It was clogging up his lungs.

Seconds go by, and they stand just staring at one another. "What's that?" Louis shoots back, pointing at the opened manila folder on the table.

Harry stiffens and almost jumps when the microwave beeps. He takes the plate and sets it on the table, next to utensils and a napkin. "How did you sleep?" He avoids eye contact and shuts the folder before moving it across the table, away from Louis' wandering eyes.

"What are you hiding?"

That question strikes Harry off guard. Surely he was hiding a lot of things. His true feelings toward Louis was one of them, and Micheal Loughty's printed background check was another. Harry simply plays it cool and sips his wine, averting his eyes to his hands clasped on the table.

Moments turn into minutes and Louis is a quarter done with his breakfast when he can't take it anymore, he surges from his seat and swipes the folder toward himself but a much larger hand with a cross tattoo holds his captive. He's in a daze, watching Harry link their fingers in a warm grip. "Louis," He starts, trying to read Louis' facial expression. It's been so long since they've had physical contact, something so minor yet intimate as holding hands. "I need to talk to you."

Louis' chair squeaks when he sits down again, forcing himself not to pull away from Harry's familiar touch. Louis would say he's foolish to be craving the touch of Harry. But he was desperate and needed grounding, and at the moment, Harry was the only one to keep him from floating away.

"Micheal isn't the man you think he is."

That wasn't what Louis was expecting. He stays seated, his face twisting in confusion. He shakes his head slowly, Micheal was one of the few sweet reliefs in Jasper right now.

"He is unstable." Harry tries to simplify it. "He's been in and out of rehab, he's been a patient of Dr. Constantines for three years." He sees the look on Louis' face. "You don't even know this guy." He emphasizes.

"But you do?" Louis retorts, cheeks turning a light cherry colour. "You are invading his privacy—"

"I'm doing my job."

Louis raises both his eyebrows, yanking away his hand. "Micheal isn't a suspect, Micheal isn't bad, he's..." Louis' voice trails off, he's trying to find the right words. "He's lonely."  _Just like me._

"He's been into hard drugs since he was legal. He is bad news." Harry's tone turned ragged. "Paper doesn't lie, Louis," Harry exclaims. "You will get hurt with him."

"I'm going to get hurt whether or not I see Micheal." Louis huffs, he was all too tired to cry. "You have hurt me too. You have no say in how to keep me safe."

Each word punctured a knife into Harry's broken heart. But, Louis was right. He was always right and Harry was always impulsive. Harry can only beg, "Please don't say that."

Harry is left stunned as Louis stands from his seat and marches up the stairs, leaving Harry to absorb his words. Deep inside, Harry knew Louis was wrong. If Louis was telling the truth, and he firmly believed Harry was only leaving him vulnerable, he would be relentless in trying to get away from him. Louis wouldn't be staying under Harry's roof if he believed Harry couldn't keep him safe. Though now, Louis' words still tore at Harry's fresh wounds and even Harry was doubting if he could protect Louis.

He was continuously trying to climb a wall that kept growing, to row a boat up a waterfall. He was trying to keep Louis safe, and the defenseless side of Harry believes it is him that is the threat. He can't keep Louis safe if he's one to cause him harm. Life didn't work that way. But Harry wanted it to. He just wanted things to go right for once, for the world to be kind to him and to Louis. He couldn't stand back and watch their non-existent relationship fall into the depths of the ocean, he couldn't leave things without sealing it tight.

Harry did truly care for Louis, he always has. 

 

 

"Louis," Harry knocks lightly on the door. "Can we talk, please?"

He receives no reply and leans closer to the door. A muffled sob has Harry hesitantly pushing the door open and meets with a tiny figure in the very corner of the room. Louis is curled with his face between his knees, hands in fists. His form is on a pile of blankets and pillows, and Harry sees that the guest mattress is bare.

"Louis," Harry steps into the room, Louis' room. The London boy's presence was everywhere, washing over the walls with his signature aura. "We need to talk." Again, no answer. "Louis, I care about you. It kills me that you think I don't. I'm trying, Louis. I'm still trying, but it's the hardest thing I've ever had to do." He tiptoes closer to the boy, feeling the air get thicker. "I'm sorry for everything. I'm sorry that I mistreated you, I'm sorry that ignored you, I'm sorry that I left you, I'm sorry that I get jealous, I'm sorry that I'm stupid." Harry melts, falling to his knees, arms reach from Louis.

Louis looks up, eyes red and nose even redder. Heartache is visible on his face. He stands wordlessly and moves across the room, standing by the bedroom door. Harry just hopes he doesn't make a run to leave again. Harry rushes, "I'm sorry that I was gone—"

"That day, I was scared, I was alone." Louis' voice is smooth and wreaked, a velvet silk. "But most of all, I needed you."

Harry looks up from his hands, chest heavy when he sees how distraught the London boy is. "You needed me?"

"I did." His tone is sharp. "You have no clue what I told Dr. Constantine, you have no idea how much I have to relive every time he asks me to think about  _that monster_." The tears continue to stream down, and he digs his nails into his palms. "Making me relive nightmares I forced myself to forget."

Harry sees Louis' eyes glaze over. "Blue."

The London boy is in a trance, blue eyes foggy and mouth parted. "The things Jackson did to me," his voice shakes. "His hands, his touch," Harry acts fast, Louis' knees buckle and he shoots up from his position. Louis' bones are stiff when Harry tugs him close before lowering them both to the floor. The boy's lips are forming one word, "fire."

Harry wraps his arms around Louis to keep him from shivering. Louis is still trembling, sitting between Harry's thighs, fingernails forced from his palms. Harry moves one of Louis' erratic hands to his face, making Louis look at him. "Stay with me, Louis." He drawls him from his spell. "Look at me."

Harry holds Louis' hand to his cheek, wincing when he feels one of his sharp nails. "Eyes up here, Blue," The man says louder this time. He moves one of Louis' hands to his own face, holding it gently. "You're here, Louis. Right here."

Louis breaks down when he meets Harry's eyes, letting out a choked sob. "Harry." He whimpers.

"I'm here too, Blue." Harry can feel Louis' muscles relax though, his chest is still rising and falling rapidly. Harry's eyes cascade down Louis' face. Over the distressed furrow between his high arched brows, and down the redness of his cheeks streamed with hot tears. To his pink lips, the saddest cries coming from his pretty pink lips. Harry's eyes trail down his neck, the smooth tan skin, and down the collar of the sweater. That's when Harry sees it. Small circular scars protruding from Louis' prominent collarbones. The divine skin marred and damaged from a cigarette. The place where Harry used to pepper kisses on, where Harry marked up with love-bites, now vandalized with immoral evidence of Jackson.

Anger erupts from Harry, and he wants to jump up and hunt Jackson down, but when he meets Louis' eyes again. He's captive under the weight of the pure misery swimming in the blue. "Is that what he did?" His voice has never been so soft.

Louis' next words awake the heightened anguish inside Harry. "Not only that."

There was still so much between them. Unspoken words, actions with missed opportunities but so many things were hidden. Louis' past was even hidden from himself, he kept it locked away and is only letting Harry see sliver by sliver.

Harry takes a shaky breath, not noticing he was crying until now. He feels the tears run down his face and to the corner of his mouth. "I'm sorry, Blue." Harry drags his hands down Louis' arms, gently squeezing the tender flesh. "I'm so sorry."

Louis' lips quiver, and he hiccups. "He hurt me."

Harry nods once, moving his hands to Louis' heated tear-stained cheeks. He leans close and feels Louis' irregular breath fan over his face. "I'm sorry." Is all he can say.

"You hurt me."

Harry pulls Louis closer until their foreheads touch and he bows their heads. Closing his eyes, wanting nothing but to rewind time and do things differently, do things right. "I'm so sorry."

Louis closes his eyes too, sniffling and he swallows the lump in his throat. "We hurt each other."

The green-eyed man makes a quiet noise of sorrow. "I know."

Louis' breath falls in place with Harry's, his tiny hands shakily reaching for the man's neck. He feels the warmth radiating from Harry's skin, the spotless skin. When his fingertips make contact with Harry's neck, he instantly feels the latter lean into his touch. Louis takes a firm grip, feeling Harry's hands move to the base of his neck.

Harry opens his eyes, seeing Louis already staring at him. "Blue." His gaze drops to Louis' lips, all pink and raw from his crying.

"Sun."

Harry feels comfort fly over his head, lifting the heavy weight off his shoulders. He couldn't believe Louis still remembered. Small images of their younger years spent in Louis' backyard in the comfort of his treehouse where they kissed and played cards. They spent hours talking about their extravagant plans for the future, unknowing of what fate had in store. Louis would ramble on about his hopes to be a famous race car driver, never growing out of his young boy dreams.  _You'll never be good enough to win the cup_ , Harry would tease.  _And you'll never be good the cool teacher all the kid's love, they're going to put a frog in your lunch bag and spread rumours about your weird pigeon feet,_ Louis would reply, knowing well about Harry's hopes of becoming a teacher, his caring nature one of his best qualities.  _Low blow, Blue,_ Harry would tackle Louis to the creaky wooden ground of the treehouse. Louis would burst into giggles,  _oh Sun, you know I adore your pigeon feet._ Harry would be inches from his face, holding his arms above his head,  _Sun?_ Louis would hum,  _you're the sun._ Harry would laugh in delight because life was good and Louis had his heart, he would lean closer and brush his lips along Louis',  _whatever you say, Blue._

Harry let's out a frustrated sob because times were so simple, and now everything is full of dread and what if's.

Louis pulls Harry close, desperate. "Kiss me." His voice cracks.

Harry starts crying all over again, his vision goes blurry and his heart yearns for Louis to repeat those words. "I can't."

"Kiss me." Louis tries again.

Harry shakes his head, crying harder because he knows Louis' brain is foggy and he needs reassurance. Louis in his right mindset would not want Harry to kiss him, much less hold him like he is. "Blue, I can't."

Louis' hands tighten their grip. "Harry, I want you to kiss me." His eyes search for Harry's unwavering nervous gaze.

"I can't." It pains Harry to deny Louis like this.

"Please." Louis is begging now, he bites his lip. "Please."

"I'm sorry." Harry murmurs. He knows if he fulfills Louis' wish to kiss him, to press his lips on his lips, he won't stop. Truth is, he misses Louis, but he just can't kiss him. He missed Louis' energy, his touch and the softness of his skin. He missed Louis' bright blue eyes and he missed the way Louis would touch him. He missed his kiss. He missed Louis.

Louis takes his hands and cradles Harry's face. He inches closer, lips parting to beg once more. "Kiss me, Sun."

There it is. That familiar desire filling Harry's veins. "I'm so sorry, Blue." He shakes his head again, running from Louis' open arms into his tower high above the clouds. He can't kiss him, not when he's like this, unstable and vulnerable. Harry is the same. He's forced to say no because if he does, he is setting himself up for Louis to break him down again. He doesn't want that. Harry grows weak, moving his head to bury in the warm crook of Louis' neck. He breathes deeply, smelling faint lavender from the body wash in Louis bathroom. He tightens his arms, bringing them both to the carpeted ground as Louis continues to beg for Harry to kiss him.

Harry lays them down, on the carpet by the door and cries harder every time Louis begs for his lips and sobbing when Louis calls him Sun.

* * *

 

**Author's Note:**

> i've never written anything like this before. I'm not a medical professional, nor someone really educated in law and police stuff but let's just go with it, ok? I hope you all enjoyed it !! 
> 
>  
> 
> anyway, any thoughts?


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